
Morton school; and said he only feared, from what he saw and heard, I was too
good for the place, and would soon quit it for one more suitable.
    »Indeed!« cried Rosamond, »she is clever enough to be a governess in a high
family, papa.«
    I thought - I would far rather be where I am than in any high family in the
land. Mr. Oliver spoke of Mr. Rivers - of the Rivers family - with great
respect. He said it was a very old name in that neighbourhood; that the
ancestors of the house were wealthy; that all Morton had once belonged to them;
that even now he considered the representative of that house might, if he liked,
make an alliance with the best. He accounted it a pity that so fine and talented
a young man should have formed the design of going out as a missionary; it was
quite throwing a valuable life away. It appeared, then, that her father would
throw no obstacle in the way of Rosamond's union with St John. Mr. Oliver
evidently regarded the young clergyman's good birth, old name, and sacred
profession, as sufficient compensation for the want of fortune.
    It was the 5th of November, and a holiday. My little servant, after helping
me to clean my house, was gone, well satisfied with the fee of a penny for her
aid. All about me was spotless and bright - scoured floor, polished grate, and
well rubbed chairs. I had also made myself neat, and had now the afternoon
before me to spend as I would.
    The translation of a few pages of German occupied an hour; then I got my
palette and pencils, and fell to the more soothing, because easier occupation,
of completing Rosamond Oliver's miniature. The head was finished already: there
was but the background to tint, and the drapery to shade off; a touch of
carmine, too, to add to the ripe lips - a soft curl here and there to the
tresses - a deeper tinge to the shadow of the lash under the azured eyelid. I
was absorbed in the execution of these nice details, when, after one rapid tap,
my door unclosed, admitting St John Rivers.
    »I am come to see how you are spending your holiday,« he said. »Not, I hope,
in thought? No, that is well: while you draw you will not feel lonely. You see,
I mistrust you still: though you have borne up wonderfully so far. I have
brought you
