Middleton's acquiescence, and
my uncle made no objection to the plan.

Accordingly, on one of the first days of the month of June, in
a small open carriage, accompanied by a lady who had once been
my governess, and who had undertaken to escort me to Brandon
Park, I left Elmsley, in tears indeed, for as my aunt pressed
me to her bosom, I returned her embrace with an intense
emotion, that seemed to resume in itself the history of my
past life; but still with the eager impatience of the bird who
wildly takes his flight from the perch to which he is still
confined, and hopes, by the keen impetuosity with which he
soars, to shake off the dead weight which chains him down to
earth. The day was beautiful: white fleecy clouds were
flitting rapidly across the sky; and the mild breeze that
fanned my cheek was scented with the perfume of the fields of
clover, through which our road chiefly lay during the first
stage of our journey. The sky, the air, the smells, the
sounds, the rapid motion of the carriage, were all sources of
the keenest enjoyment. Fortunately for me, Mrs. Hatton, my
travelling companion, possessed the qualification of finding
amusement in herself, and by herself, to an extraordinary
degree. I have never met with so thoroughly good-humoured a
person. She always liked best whatever was proposed to her to
do, and never liked at all anything that others were not
inclined to. Whatever happened to be ordered for dinner, was
invariably the thing she preferred; but if, by any mischance,
it did not appear, and something else appeared in its stead,
she as suddenly recollected that she liked the new dish a
great deal better than the one that had failed. Even the
weather received at her hands very different treatment from
that which it is accustomed to meet with. A black frost she
considered wholesome and bracing; a cutting east wind, she
described as a fresh breeze; snow, rain, and hail, had each
particular merits, in her eyes. When the sun shone, it was
fortunate; when it rained, it was a piece of luck, for she had
ever so many letters to write; and there was nothing like a
rainy day for getting through business. And if the weather was
without any other apology, "Still," as I heard her once say,
"it was better than no weather at all."

I never heard her admit that anything was a grievance; that
anybody was tiresome. Her friends' misfortunes, indeed, she
felt heartily sorry for; but, with respect to them, she found
c