St. John was not a man to be lightly refused: you felt that every

impression made on him, either for pain or pleasure, was deep-graved

and permanent. I consented. When Diana and Mary returned, the

former found her scholar transferred from her to her brother: she

laughed, and both she and Mary agreed that St. John should never

have persuaded them to such a step. He answered quietly "I know it."

I found him a very patient, very forbearing, and yet an exacting

master: he expected me to do a great deal; and when I fulfilled his

expectations, he, in his own way, fully testified his approbation.

By degrees, he acquired a certain influence over me that took away

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my liberty of mind: his praise and notice were more restraining

than his indifference. I could no longer talk or laugh freely when

he was by, because a tiresomely importunate instinct reminded me

that vivacity (at least in me) was distasteful to him. I was so

fully aware that only serious moods and occupations were acceptable,

that in his presence every effort to sustain or follow any other

became vain: I fell under a freezing spell. When he said "go," I

went; "come," I came; "do this," I did it. But I did not love my

servitude: I wished, many a time, he had continued to neglect me.

One evening when, at bedtime, his sisters and I stood round him,

bidding him good-night, he kissed each of them, as was his custom;

and, as was equally his custom, he gave me his hand. Diana, who

chanced to be in a frolicsome humour (SHE was not painfully

controlled by his will; for hers, in another way, was as strong),

exclaimed "St. John! You used to call Jane your third sister, but you don't

treat her as such: you should kiss her too."

She pushed me towards him. I thought Diana very provoking, and felt

uncomfortably confused; and while I was thus thinking and feeling,

St. John bent his head; his Greek face was brought to a level with

mine, his eyes questioned my eyes piercingly--he kissed me. There

are no such things as marble kisses or ice kisses, or I should say

my ecclesiastical cousin's salute belonged to one of these classes;

but there may be experiment kisses, and his was an experiment kiss.

When given, he viewed me to learn the result; it was not striking:

I am sure I did not blush; perhaps I might have turned a little

pale, for I felt as if this kiss were a seal affixed to my fetters.

He never omitted the ceremony afterwards, and the gravity and

quiescence with which I underwent it, seemed to invest it for him

with a certain charm.




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