Chapter 7: A Fresh Acquaintance

‘I say
Just what I think, and
Nothing more or less.’—Longfellow.

I was not missed that night, and no one came near me. With my Bible on my knees, I felt quite convinced that I had acted rightly, and I was thankful that beyond a sincere liking for Captain Gates as a friend I had no other feeling to make my decision a hard matter. Inexperienced as I was, I knew no Christian ought to yoke themselves with another, with only the hope of helping them heavenwards in view. And I felt that if I were to love any one, it must be one who could help and lead me in the right way, and who was an older and a better Christian than I was myself. But I was sorry for Captain Gates, and wrote him a little note that same night, for I was afraid lest the interruption to our conversation should give him the excuse for continuing the subject when another opportunity offered itself, and that I wanted to avoid.

The next morning I went to Mrs. Forsyth’s boudoir, and finding her alone told her of what had passed the night before. She was much surprised, and not altogether pleased.

‘I ought to have looked after you better,’ she said, ‘but Captain Gates has seemed more like a brother to my girls. He was brought up with the boys, and has looked upon this as his second home. I noticed, of course, how attentive he was to you; but it is his way with most fresh acquaintances, and I never dreamed of it leading to anything serious. Why, he has no prospects beyond his pay and a trifling allowance from his father! What could he be dreaming of?’

I listened, but said nothing, only wondered at the different views people took of things. Mrs. Forsyth’s reason for my refusal of him was so very far apart from mine.

The ball was a theme of conversation for many days after, and I was thankful that my absence from it had been so little noticed. But, as time went on, my life seemed to get very difficult. I think I had naturally a bright disposition, and so in the first freshness of my surroundings did not mind the little disagreeables attending my ‘strait-laced views,’ as Nelly called them. When Captain Gates had left us, our gaiety did not cease; I seemed to be continually in opposition to my guardian, and after bearing a good deal of grave displeasure from him, and light scorn from the rest, I was finally left in peace to go my way alone, with the sense of being in perpetual disgrace, and being shunned and avoided by most of the girls’ friends. This I could not help feeling acutely—I longed to be friends with every one; and many a tear was shed in the privacy of my own room, as I would see a merry party leave the house bound on some excursion—perhaps a simple water picnic—to which I had not been asked, on account of my ‘peculiar ideas.’ Then it was I sought to ‘dwell deep,’ and found increasing comfort in studying my little Bible. I was not dull, for I visited much in the village. My Sunday class increased, and my little scholars were a perpetual source of enjoyment to me. I went for walks with Violet and her governess, and when feeling lonely would often take my violin up to my room and enjoy an hour or two there in quiet. Sometimes Hugh would ask me to come in and play to him, and as the evenings drew in I often went to him for an hour before dinner. He really was fond of music, and would lean back in his chair and thoroughly enjoy it. I tried to make myself as pleasant to every one as I could: I helped Mrs. Forsyth in her gardening, which was her particular hobby; I ran errands for the girls, and made a point of obliging them in every way possible; I practised my violin with Violet, and was always ready for an outdoor scramble with her when Miss Graham was not able to accompany us; and in filling up my days with these occupations I learnt to be content and happy.