A Strange Experience, Chapters I-V [pp. 223-237]

APPL E TON S' JO URNAL.
pointment, weariness in my life, I schooled myself
into looking always to the future, never to the past.
II.
FIVE years later, on a quiet April afternoon, I
was being driven rapidly along a country road on
my way to a new life-that of governess in a family
of whom I knew nothing except by correspondence.
I had found myself alone in the world, and penniless
-too common a story to need repetition of details.
Suffice it to say, through the kindness of a friend I
had obtained what promised to be a delightful position. I was to teach music and drawing to a young
lady who lived with her maiden aunts in Berkshire
County. The family was an old-established one, and
I was told represented wealth, and culture, and refinement. Yet the prospect was not wholly inviting.
These were mere outlines, and my imagination filled
up the details uncomfortably. My mood, I fear,
was a weary one, and I determined to shake it off
by enjoyment of the country. The road seemed to
wind in and out of a lovely region. We were not
far from Great Barrington. The line of hills was
beyond me, blue in the mist with which the day
was closing in, and, it being April, some faint odors
of the spring-time seemed to fill the air. As I
looked out of the carriage-window, I saw a man
coming down thle road, beating the bits of grass or
stone from his feet with a cane. Against the evening light his figure stood out very clearly, and at
once impressed me familiarly-a tall, thin man, with
a dark face, bent so that I could only see the beard
and heavy black mustache-but at sight of the carriage he stopped and put up his hand. My driver
pulled up his horses, and the man came near the
window. I remember being quickly impressed with
the characteristics of his face-the restlessness in the
eyes-the fixed calm about the mouth and chin; it
was a face which might in youth have been coarse
and disagreeable, but the lines of care or middle
age had brought a softening, refining influence, and
there was a certain power of fascination about it,
which made me forget its first repulsive expression.
He looked at the coachman and at me.
"I beg your pardon," he said to us both, in a
very low, deliberate voice, which also had its charm.
"But is that gateway Miss Newton's? "
My driver nodded oracularly, and, with the characteristic aversion of his part of the country to a
definite answer, said:
"Well-yes, it is."
The stranger beat the ground a moment longer
with his stick, and then bowed respectfully to me.
"Thanks," he said, calmly, and we drove on. I
had the curiosity to look out after him, and saw his
tall, slight figure striding on, as sharp an outline
against the western light as before.
We now entered the gateway, and in my interest I forgot the rencontre. In a moment I was on
the threshold of my new home-a large, rambling
house, half brick, half framework; with irregularlyset windows; unexpected curves and angles; one
side facing the sunlight, the other sheltered from it
by projecting eaves and a long, glass-covered balcony, which I saw would be luxuriant with vines in
summer-time. A pleasant-faced girl admitted me,
and I was quickly ushered into a large room where
the gloom of the twilight seemed quite dispelled by
the cheerful glow of a wood-fire and wax-candles.
Two ladies rose to meet me, and the elder one held
out her hand with that undemonstrative air of cordiality which is so thoroughly New England. The
younger one, a woman of about forty, I judged,
smiled and nodded good-humoredly.
"Miss Mayo, I believe," said the elder one, in a
voice which seemed part of the warm, bright influence of the room. "We are very glad to see you."
She motioned me to a seat by the fire. "Before
going to your room," she went on, with quite a confidential tone, "would you mind going up to Leonor's room? She hurt her ankle the other day, and
has been compelled to stay up-stairs, which is a
great privation to such a vigorous girl, and she is
most impatient to see you."
"We hope she will take to you," said the younger sister. "There is so much in instantaneous affinities."
I began to fear too much intellectual comprehension might be demanded of me, but discovered later
that the younger Miss Craig tried to express whatever author she was reading. At this time she was
in a cheerful little puzzle of mind over Emerson.
I expressed my willingness to go immediately to
Miss Newton's room, and the maid was summoned
to take me to her. We went up a pretty, old-fashioned staircase, with shallow steps, and windows at
intervals - some of the panes being stained glass,
through which a stream of sunset color made its way.
We crossed the hall, and there the girl opened a
door, explaining that she would tell Miss Newton.
My first impression, upon entering the room, was of
its rose-colored light and warmth. It was not the
cheerfulness of the open fire-the soft hangings of
chintz, the innumerable flowers which adorned every
nook and corner-but there seemed to be a special
atmosphere of brightness and rosy tint throughout
the room which penetrated even the shadows cast by
the closing day. No candles were lit as yet, and
still there was no gloom in the deepening twilight.
While I was looking at the many luxuries of the
room, I heard a rustle from an inner apartment, divided from this by a dark-blue silk tortiere. In an
instant the curtain was drawn back, and with a halfshy movement Miss Newton came into the room.
Looking back, I can see her now in this setting of
what seemed to my travel-weary eyes and spirits,
picturesque splendor; and her loveliness, which I
grew to know so perfectly in every detail, flashed
upon me like the sight of some face and figure we
have seen only in pictures or our fancy. She was
holding back the blue curtain against which her figure in its white-cashmere gown was relieved- a
girl of eighteen, perhaps, with a tender, womanly
face, made beautiful by the serenity of the brow and
eyes, the dimpled sweetness of the mouth and chin.
Her hair was a perfect golden shade, untouched by
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