Thus Grace and I became the
wards of the clergyman alone on the death of our last remaining
parent. This was grateful to us both, for we both truly loved this
good man, and, what was more, we loved his children. Of these there
were two of ages corresponding very nearly with our own; Rupert
Hardinge being not quite a year older than I was myself, and Lucy, his
sister, about six months younger than Grace. We were all four
strongly attached to each other, and had been so from infancy,
Mr. Hardinge having had charge of my education as soon as I was taken
from a woman's school.
I cannot say, however, that Rupert Hardinge was ever a boy to give his
father the delight that a studious, well-conducted, considerate and
industrious child, has it so much in his power to yield to his
parent. Of the two, I was much the best scholar, and had been
pronounced by Mr. Hardinge fit to enter college, a twelvemonth before
my mother died; though she declined sending me to Yale, the
institution selected by my father, until my school-fellow was
similarly prepared, it having been her intention to give the
clergyman's son a thorough education, in furtherance of his father's
views of bringing him up to the church. This delay, so well and kindly
meant, had the effect of changing the whole course of my subsequent
life.
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