The Diary.

I.

Jan. 15, 1885.—How strange it seems to me to be seated in this room writing in my diary to-night. I can scarcely realise that I am the new governess, and that I am at The Peak. The advertisement was: "Wanted, young lady of education and refinement as governess. Knowledge of languages required in addition to [unclear: ty] to instruct in ordinary curriculum. Terms, £40 per annum. Apply, The Park."

Well, I was a young lady of education and refinement. I knew French and Spanish passably, was well acquainted with Latin, had a slight smattering of [unclear: men] (very slight, I may say), besides English, which of course didn't count, [unclear: tered] myself I knew how to instruct in the "ordinary curriculum "—which I supposed meant the three li's—and above all, I wanted that £40 badly. I applied for the place, got it, and here I am, tired to death with travelling for the last two days, and with my daily portion of diary-writing, which I have religiously pledged self to do, still staring me in the face.

To day was one of those unseasonable days occasionally met with even in mid gamer. Thick clouds of mist were drifting over the hills as we set out from Wellington this afternoon, and in about half an hour it began to pour down in torrents. The driving sheets of rain made the scenery a mere indistinguishable blurr, and I by back in the carriage in despair of finding anything from without to interest me. I was full of a feeling of timid nervousness. I had not yet seen Mrs. Shaw, the [unclear: ly] by whom I had been engaged, for I had applied for the situation in writing, and I wondered what she would be like. I took out the letter she had written in ably mine, and read it over again. It was kindly enough worded, assured me [unclear: ing] a very comfortable place, that the two little girls it would be my duty to [unclear: ct] would be found exceedingly docile and teachable, and all that; but it was written in a thick heavy hand. The t's had no upstrokes, and had great black has dashed across them; the tails of the g's and y's were as stiff and unbending is pump-handles, and the ends of the words ran away into mere ragged lines. Altogether a grim, forbidding kind of hand; a hand that brought up a vision of a [unclear: an] with a little too much will of her own, a set, severe face, and tightly [unclear: ed] lips. I did not like the picture I had conjured up, put the letter back in the [unclear: ule], and looking out of the carriage window again, found I was at length in [unclear: dit] of The Peak.

From the valley road along which we were slowly crawling—I could call it nothing else—I caught sight, through the grey cloud of rain, of a large rambling [unclear: ing] perched apparently on the top of the highest hill. The coachman [unclear: ted] to it with his whip, and said that was "It." From the valley it was impossible to form any idea of what the place was like, for I could only make out the dim outlines of a number of high-shouldered gables pushing up above the trees; a great straggling pile it seemed, all the bigger and more unwieldy from the page 6 mists that hung about it. Then it was shut out again, and we began to ascend a hillside, so steep that the horses had to go in an abrupt zig-zag to lessen the strait. The trees, heavy with the rain, overhung the banks at the roadside and brushed against the coach windows as we passed. Then, without in the least knowing how we got there, I found myself jolting along a rough narrow mountain path, with The Peak in the midst of its wide grounds lying below. Behind the house, the mountains rose giddily upward till their tops were hidden in dense clouds of mist, that closed, and opened, and changed, and hung down the steep hillsides like masses of tangled drapery. A cold icy wind had arisen and was sweeping keenly along the heights; a wide, bleak prospect opened out; on every side stretched rugged brown hills studded with the blackened stumps of charred tree stems, with random patches of native bush showing here and there through rifts in the mist, and having an indescribably wet and draggled look about them. I wondered what could have possessed any one to build such a house as the one before me, and then hide it away in a wild, barren, out-of-the-way spot like this.

A few more turns in the road, and we stopped before a pair of tall iron gates, which the driver opened. Then we wheeled up a broad pebbly yellow-sanded sweep of carriage drive, and halted before the hall door, and stepping out, I found I myself fairly arrived at The Peak at last.

It is not the most comfortable feeling to entertain at the beginning of such an engagement as mine, and I may be wrong, but I have an unpleasantly strong idea that Mrs. Shaw and I will not be the best friends in the world. She received me herself in the drawing room on my arrival to-day, and I was surprised at the closeness of her resemblance to the picture I had formed in my mind. She was tall, gaunt and bony, with eyes severe, and dress of formal cut. Her eye brows were bushy—too bushy for a woman; and her forehead, though she was by no means an elderly woman, was full of wrinkles. Her nose was pointed; her ears stood out sharply from her head; and in the very first moment of my introduction I was conscious of a certain grim, disagreeable air of sanctimony about her.

She rose from her chair as I was announced, and stood with one arm crossed in front of her, and the other by her side, steadily looking at me. She took in every point before she spoke. Then she said, "You are Miss Gower, I presume. I am glad to see you. I trust we shall get on very well together." I trusted we should get on very well together, added what I thought the occasion required and presented my credentials.

"You will be tired after your journey," she said, when she had made me thoroughly uncomfortable by the critical way in which she seemed to read over the letters. "The servant will show you your room." She rang the bell, and a servant girl appeared, who piloted me up a flight or two of stairs and along a dreary stretch of passage to the quarters assigned me, where I have remained ever since, Mrs. Shaw being considerate enough to indulge me with tea in my own room.

And now I am just about tired out. The bed looks inviting, and I think I have done enough for one day.