y
show. These five young ladies had not amiable dispositions or gentle
manners; but they were first-rate horsewomen, laughed and talked very
loud, and were pronounced fine dashing women. There was another member
of the family, an orphan niece of my master's, who had greatly
profited by my lamented lady's teaching and companionship. Miss Marion
had devoted herself to the sick-room with even more than a daughter's
love; and for two years she had watched beside the patient sufferer,
when her more volatile and thoughtless cousins refused to credit the
approach of death. Miss Marion had just entered her twentieth year;
life had not been all summer with her; for she remembered scenes of
privation and distress, ere the decease of her parents left her, their
only child, to the care of affluent relatives. She was a serious and
meek, but affectionate creature; of a most goodly countenance and
graceful carriage; and I used sometimes to think that the Misses Dacre
were jealous of the admiration she excited, and kept her in the
background as much as possible. It was not difficult to do this, for
Miss Marion sought and loved retirement. After Mrs Dacre's decease,
she had expressed an urgent wish to earn her bread by filling the
situation of a governess. But the pride of the Dacres revolted at
this; besides, Miss Marion was a comfort to her uncle, when his
daughters were absent or occupied. So the dear young lady gave up her
own wishes, and strove to do all she could for her generous
benefactor, as she was wont to call my master.

Circumstances, which it were needless to detail, except to say that,
although I had served _one_ mistress satisfactorily, I found it
impossible to serve _five_, determined me to resign the situation I
had creditably filled for so many years. I deeply grieved to leave my
beloved Miss Marion; and she, sweet, humble soul, on her part, yearned
towards me, and wept a farewell on my bosom. I betook myself, in the
first instance, to my brother Thomas Wesley and his wife--a worthy
couple without children, renting a small farm nearly a hundred miles
off. A very pleasant, small farm it was, situated in a picturesque
valley, through which tumbled and foamed a limpid hill-stream, washing
the roots of fine old trees, and playing all sorts of antics. This
valley was a resort of quiet anglers, and also of artists during the
summer season; and Thomas and Martha Wesley often let a neat parlour
and adjoining bedroom to such