ackage in
Preston's hands, and walked in; my play over.

How well I knew my play was over, when I saw my governess. She was
sitting by my aunt on the sofa. Quite different from what I had
expected, so different that I walked up to her in a maze, and yet
seemed to recognize in that first view all that was coming after.
Probably that is fancy; but it seems to me now that all I ever knew or
felt about Miss Pinshon in the years that followed, was duly begun and
betokened in those first five minutes. She was a young-looking lady,
younger looking than she was. She had a dark, rich complexion, and a
face that I suppose would have been called handsome; it was never
handsome to me. Long black curls on each side of her face, and large
black eyes, were the features that first struck one; but I immediately
decided that Miss Pinshon was not born a lady. I do not mean that I
think blood and breeding are unseverable; or that half a dozen lady
ancestors in a direct line secure the character to the seventh in
descent; though they _do_ often secure the look of it; nevertheless,
ladies are born who never know all their lives how to make a curtsey,
and curtseys are made with infinite grace by those who have nothing of
a lady beyond the trappings. I never saw Miss Pinshon do a rude or an
awkward thing, that I remember; nor one which changed my first mind
about her. She was handsomely dressed; but there again I felt the same
want. Miss Pinshon's dresses made me think always of the mercer's
counter and the dressmaker's shop. My mother's robes always seemed
part of her own self; and so, in a certain true sense, they were.

My aunt introduced me. Miss Pinshon studied me. Her first remark was
that I looked very young. My aunt excused that, on the ground of my
having been always a delicate child. Miss Pinshon observed further
that the way I wore my hair produced part of the effect. My aunt
explained _that_ to my father's and mother's fancy; and agreed that
she thought cropped heads were always ungraceful. If my hair were
allowed to fall in ringlets on my neck I would look very different.
Miss Pinshon next inquired how much I knew? turning her great black
eyes from me to Aunt Gary. My aunt declared she could not tell;
delicate health had also here interfered; and she appealed to me to
say what knowledge I was possessed of. I could not answer. I could not
say. It seemed to me I had not learned anything. Then Preston spoke
for me.

"Modesty is a