The Late Miss Hollingford | Page 3

a palace, nor did I ever see Mr. Hollingford, who was a banker in the
city. After my twelfth birthday I saw them no more. I missed the
periodical appearance of the noble countenance in the parlour. Miss
Sweetman, with a very long face, told me something of the breaking of
a bank, ruin, and poverty. I was very sorry, but I was too young to

realise it much; and I went on thinking of Mrs. Hollingford, in trouble,
no doubt, and unfortunately removed from me, but still going about the
world in her long velvet cloak and with her hands full of plum-cake.
So my youth went on till I was sixteen, pretty well grown for my years,
a little pert, a little proud, a little fond of tinsels and butterflies, a little
too apt to make fun of my neighbours, and to believe that the sun had
got a special commission to shine upon me, but withal sympathetic and
soft-hearted enough when in my right senses, and, as I said before, not
a bad sort of girl when properly kept down by a judicious system of
snubbing. I had already begun to count the months to the happy time,
two years hence, when, my education being finished, I should at last
rejoin my parents in India; and I was fond of describing all the
beautiful things I would send as presents to the friends who had been
kind to me in England. And then one fearful day came the black letter
bearing the terrible news which bowed my head in the dust, scattered
my girlish vanities, and altered my fate for life. Every one in the house
learned the news before me. I saw blank faces all around, and could
only guess the cause, so careful were they to break it to me gradually.
For two dreadful days they kept me on the rack of suspense, while I did
not know whether it was my father or mother who was dead, or
whether both were ill, or only one. But I learned all soon enough. There
had been a fever, and both were dead. I was an orphan, quite alone in
the world.
For three years after this I remained with the Miss Sweetmans, during
which time I had regained much of my old cheerfulness, and also some
degree of my natural pride and impertinence. My father and mother had
been to me a memory and a hope; now they were a memory only. After
my first grief and sense of desolation had passed, I went on with the
routine of my days much as before. I did not miss my father and mother
every hour as though I had lived under their roof and been familiar with
their faces and caresses. But the bright expectation of my youth was
extinguished, and I suffered secretly a great yearning for the love which
I had now no right to claim from anyone. The time was fast
approaching when I must take my school-books down from Miss
Sweetmans' shelves, pack up my trunks, and go forth among strangers.

I had some property, more than enough for my needs, and I was to
dwell under the roof of my guardian, Mrs. Hollingford. In the mean
time, I paid several visits to the home of a wealthy school-fellow, who
had entered upon fashionable life, and who was eager to give me a taste
of its delights before I yielded myself to the fate that was in store for
me. I learned to dress with taste, to wear my hair in the newest style,
and to waltz to perfection. But I could not go on paying visits for ever,
and the time arrived when I found it necessary to turn my back on
lively scenes and prepare for the obscurity of Hillsbro'. This was a
remote place in the north country, from whence were dated all the
letters addressed by Mrs. Hollingford to me since the time when she
had become my guardian.
I did not go to Hillsbro' Farm in any unfair state of ignorance as to the
present worldly position of its owners. Grace Tyrrell (my school-fellow)
was careful to let me know the depth of the degradation to which these
friends of an old time had fallen from their once high estate; also to
make me aware of the estimation in which they were held by the people
of her world. The idea of my going to Hillsbro' was ridiculed till I got
angry, but not ashamed.
"Those poor Hollingfords!" said one lady. "I am sure it is very kind of
you, Miss Dacre, to pay them a visit; but live with them, my dear!--you
could not think of identifying yourself with such people. Are you aware
that the father ruined numbers