THE UNCLE
Besides the old lady, there was another relative of the family, visits were a great to me—this was "Uncle Robson," Mrs. Bloomfield's brother; a tall, self-sufficient fellow, with dark and like his sister, a nose that to the earth, and little eyes, half-closed, with a mixture of and of all objects. He was a thick-set, strongly-built man, but he had some means of his into a small compass; and that, together with the of his form, that the lofty-minded, Mr. Robson, the of the female sex, was not above the of stays. He to notice me; and, when he did, it was with a of and manner that me he was no gentleman: though it was to have a effect. But it was not for that I his coming, so much as for the he did the children—encouraging all their propensities, and in a minutes the little good it had taken me months of to achieve.
Fanny and little Harriet he to notice; but Mary Ann was something of a favourite. He was her to (which I had done my to crush), talking about her face, and her with all manner of her personal (which I had her to as in the with the of her mind and manners); and I saw a child so of as she was. Whatever was wrong, in either her or her brother, he would by laughing at, if not by actually praising: people little know the they do to children by laughing at their faults, and making a of what their true friends have to teach them to in abhorrence.
Though not a positive drunkard, Mr. Robson great of wine, and took with an occasional of and water. He his nephew to him in this to the of his ability, and to that the more and he take, and the he liked them, the more he his bold, and spirit, and rose to his sisters. Mr. Bloomfield had not much to say against it, for his was and water; of which he took a every day, by of sipping—and to that I his and temper.
Mr. Robson Tom's to the creation, by and example. As he came to or shoot over his brother-in-law's grounds, he would his dogs with him; and he them so that, as I was, I would have a any day to see one of them bite him, provided the animal have done it with impunity. Sometimes, when in a very mood, he would go a-birds'-nesting with the children, a thing that and me exceedingly; as, by and attempts, I myself I had them the of this pastime, and hoped, in time, to them to some of and humanity; but ten minutes' birds'-nesting with uncle Robson, or a laugh from him at some relation of their barbarities, was at once to the of my whole of and persuasion. Happily, however, that spring, they never, but once, got anything but empty nests, or eggs—being too to them till the were hatched; that once, Tom, who had been with his uncle into the plantation, came in high into the garden, with a of little in his hands. Mary Ann and Fanny, I was just out, ran to his spoils, and to each a bird for themselves. "No, not one!" Tom. "They're all mine; uncle Robson gave them to me—one, two, three, four, five—you shan't touch one of them! no, not one, for your lives!" he, exultingly; the on the ground, and over it with his wide apart, his hands into his breeches-pockets, his forward, and his into all manner of in the of his delight.
"But you shall see me 'em off. My word, but I will 'em? See if I don't now. By gum! but there's sport for me in that nest."
"But, Tom," said I, "I shall not allow you to those birds. They must either be killed at once or to the place you took them from, that the old may continue to them."
"But you don't know where that is, Madam: it's only me and uncle Robson that that."
"But if you don't tell me, I shall kill them myself—much as I it."
"You daren't. You daren't touch them for your life! you know papa and mamma, and uncle Robson, would be angry. Ha, ha! I've you there, Miss!"
"I shall do what I think right in a case of this without any one. If your papa and don't to approve of it, I shall be sorry to them; but your uncle Robson's opinions, of course, are nothing to me."
So saying—urged by a of duty—at the of making myself and the of my employers—I got a large stone, that had been up for a mouse-trap by the gardener; then, having once more to the little to let the be back, I asked what he to do with them. With he a list of torments; and while he was in the relation, I the upon his and them it. Loud were the outcries, terrible the execrations, upon this outrage; uncle Robson had been up the walk with his gun, and was just then to his dog. Tom him, he would make him me of Juno. Mr. Robson upon his gun, and laughed at the of his nephew's passion, and the and he upon me. "Well, you are a good 'un!" he, at length, taking up his and the house. "Damme, but the has some in him, too. Curse me, if I saw a little than that. He's government already: by God! he mother, granny, governess, and all! Ha, ha, ha! Never mind, Tom, I'll you another to-morrow."
"If you do, Mr. Robson, I shall kill them too," said I.
"Humph!" he, and having me with a stare—which, to his expectations, I without flinching—he away with an air of contempt, and into the house. Tom next to tell his mamma. It was not her way to say much on any subject; but, when she next saw me, her and were dark and chilled. After some about the weather, she "I am sorry, Miss Grey, you should think it necessary to with Master Bloomfield's amusements; he was very much about your the birds."
"When Master Bloomfield's in creatures," I answered, "I think it my to interfere."
"You to have forgotten," said she, calmly, "that the were all for our convenience."
I that some doubt, but "If they were, we have no right to them for our amusement."
"I think," said she, "a child's is to be against the of a brute."
"But, for the child's own sake, it ought not to be to have such amusements," answered I, as as I could, to make up for such pertinacity. "‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.'"
"Oh! of course; but that to our each other."
"‘The man to his beast,'" I to add.
"I think you have not much mercy," she, with a short, laugh; "killing the by in that manner, and the dear boy to such for a whim."
I it to say no more. This was the nearest approach to a I had with Mrs. Bloomfield; as well as the number of I with her at one time, since the day of my arrival.
But Mr. Robson and old Mrs. Bloomfield were not the only guests to Wellwood House me; every visitor me more or less; not so much they neglected me (though I did their and in that respect), as I it to keep my away from them, as I was to do: Tom must talk to them, and Mary Ann must be noticed by them. Neither the one the other what it was to any of shamefacedness, or common modesty. They would and the of their elders, them with the most questions, the gentlemen, climb their uninvited, about their or their pockets, the ladies' gowns, their hair, their collars, and for their trinkets.
Mrs. Bloomfield had the to be and at all this, but she had not to prevent it: she me to prevent it. But how I—when the guests, with their and new faces, and them, out of to their parents—how I, with my garments, every-day face, and words, them away? I every nerve to do so: by to them, I to them to my side; by the of such authority as I possessed, and by such as I to use, I to them from the guests; and by their conduct, to make them to repeat it. But they no shame; they authority which had no terrors to it; and as for and affection, either they had no hearts, or such as they had were so guarded, and so well concealed, that I, with all my efforts, had not yet how to them.
But soon my in this came to a close—sooner than I either or desired; for one sweet the close of May, as I was in the near approach of the holidays, and myself upon having some progress with my (as as their learning went, at least, for I had something into their heads, and I had, at length, them to be a little—a very little—more about their lessons done in time to some space for recreation, of themselves and me all day long to no purpose), Mrs. Bloomfield sent for me, and told me that after Midsummer my services would be no longer required. She me that my and were unexceptionable; but the children had so little since my that Mr. Bloomfield and she it their to some other mode of instruction. Though to most children of their years in abilities, they were them in attainments; their manners were uncultivated, and their unruly. And this she to a want of firmness, and diligent, on my part.
Unshaken firmness, diligence, perseverance, care, were the very on which I had myself; and by which I had in time to overcome all difficulties, and obtain success at last. I to say something in my own justification; but in attempting to speak, I my voice falter; and than any emotion, or the to overflow that were already in my eyes, I to keep silence, and all like a self-convicted culprit.
Thus was I dismissed, and thus I my home. Alas! what would they think of me? unable, after all my boasting, to keep my place, for a single year, as to three small children, mother was by my own aunt to be a "very woman." Having been thus in the and wanting, I need not they would be to try me again. And this was an thought; for vexed, harassed, as I had been, and as I had learned to love and value my home, I was not yet of adventure, to my efforts. I that all were not like Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield, and I was all children were not like theirs. The next family must be different, and any must be for the better. I had been by adversity, and by experience, and I to my in the of those opinion was more than that of all the world to me.
