The Monctons | Page 5

had lost.

"Rebecca," said my uncle, in a deep, clear voice, "you must not spoil
the boy. There is no need of this display."
His wife seemed as much under the influence of his eye as myself. She
instantly released me from her arms, and quietly placed me in a chair
beside the fire, and in the presence of her husband, she took no more
notice of me than she would have done of one of the domestic animals
about the house. Yet, her eyes rested upon me with motherly kindness,
and she silently took care to administer liberally to all my wants; and
when she did speak, it was in such a soft, soothing tone, that I felt that
she was my friend, and loved her with my whole heart.
My uncle was a domestic tyrant--cruel, exacting, and as obstinate as a
mule; yet, she contrived to live with him on friendly terms; the only
creature in the world, I am fully persuaded, who did not hate him.
Married, as she had been, for money, and possessing few personal
advantages, it was wonderful the influence she had over him in her
quiet way. She never resisted his authority, however harshly enforced;
and often stood between him and his victims, diverting his resentment
without appearing to oppose his will. If there existed in his frigid breast
one sentiment of kindness for any human creature, I think it was for
her.
With women he was no favourite. He had no respect for the sex, and I
question whether he was ever in love in his life. If he had ever owned a
tender passion, it must have been in very early youth, before his heart
got hardened and iced in the world. My aunt seemed necessary to his
comfort, his convenience, his vanity: however he might be disliked by
others he was certain of her fidelity and attachment. His respect for her
was the one bright spot in his character, and even that was tarnished by
a refined system of selfishness.
The only comfort I enjoyed during my cheerless childhood, I derived
from her silent attention to my wants and wishes, which she gratified as
far as she dared, without incurring the jealous displeasure of her
exacting husband.
In private, Mrs. Moncton always treated me as her own child. She

unlocked the fountains of natural affection, which my uncle's harshness
had sealed, and love gushed forth. I dearly loved her, and longed to call
her mother; but she forbade all outward demonstration of my
attachment, which she assured me would not only be very offensive to
Mr. Moncton, but would draw down his displeasure upon us both.
The hours I spent with my good aunt were few: I only saw her at meals,
and on the Sabbath-day, when I accompanied her to church, and spent
the whole day with her and her only son--a cross, peevish boy, some
four years older than myself--but of him anon. During the winter, she
always sent for me into the parlour, during the dark hour between
dinner and tea, when I recited to her the lessons I had learned with my
cousin's tutor during the day. My uncle was always absent at that hour,
and these were precious moments to the young heart, which knew no
companionship, and pined for affection and sympathy.
My worthy aunt! it is with heartfelt gratitude I pay this slight tribute to
your memory. But for your gentle love and kind teachings, I might
have become as cold and tyrannical as your harsh lord--as selfish and
unfeeling as your unnatural son.
How I delighted to sit by your side, in the warm, red light of a cheerful
fire, in that large, dusky room, and hold your small white hand in mine,
while I recounted to you all the beautiful and shadowy reminiscences of
my happy infancy--to watch the pensive smile steal over your lips, as I
described the garden in which I played, the dear little white bed in
which I slept, and where my own dear mother nightly knelt beside me,
to hear me repeat my simple prayers and hymns, before she kissed and
blessed me, and left me to the protecting care of the great Father in
Heaven.
"Ah!" I exclaimed one evening, while sitting at my aunt's feet, "why
did she die and leave me for ever? I am nobody's child. Other little
boys have kind mothers to love them, but I am alone in the world. Aunt,
let me be your boy--your own dear little boy, and I will love you almost
as well as I did my poor mamma!"
The good woman caught me to her heart, tears were streaming down

her kind, benevolent face, she kissed me passionately, as she sobbed
out,
"Geoffrey, you will never know