ROUND THE SOFA.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
“Mary Barton,” “Life of Charlotte Bronte,” &c. &c.
TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
SAMPSON LOW, SON & CO., 47 LUDGATE HILL.
1859.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET.
| CONTENTS |
| Round the Sofa. |
| My Lady Ludlow. |
PREFACE.
Most of these Stories have already appeared in Household Words: one,however, has never been published in England, and another has obtainedonly a limited circulation.{1}
ROUND THE SOFA.
Long ago I was placed by my parents under the medical treatment of acertain Mr. Dawson, a surgeon in Edinburgh, who had obtained areputation for the cure of a particular class of diseases. I was sentwith my governess into lodgings near his house, in the Old Town. I wasto combine lessons from the excellent Edinburgh masters, with themedicines and exercises needed for my indisposition. It was at firstrather dreary to leave my brothers and sisters, and to give up our merryout-of-doors life with our country home, for dull lodgings, with onlypoor grave Miss Duncan for a companion; and to exchange our romps in thegarden and rambles through the fields for stiff walks in the streets,the decorum of which obliged me to tie my bonnet-strings neatly, and puton my shawl with some regard to straightness.{2}
The evenings were the worst. It was autumn, and of course they dailygrew longer: they were long enough, I am sure, when we first settleddown in those gray and drab lodgings. For, you must know, my father andmother were not rich, and there were a great many of us, and the medicalexpenses to be incurred by my being placed under Mr. Dawson’s care wereexpected to be considerable; therefore, one great point in our searchafter lodgings was economy. My father, who was too true a gentleman tofeel false shame, had named this necessity for cheapness to Mr. Dawson;and in return, Mr. Dawson had told him of those at No. 6 Cromer Street,in which we were finally settled. The house belonged to an old man, atone time a tutor to young men preparing for the University, in whichcapacity he had become known to Mr. Dawson. But his pupils had droppedoff; and when we went to lodge with him, I imagine that his principalsupport was derived from a few occasional lessons which he gave, andfrom letting the rooms that we took, a drawing-room opening into abed-room, out of which a smaller chamber led. His daughter was hishousekeeper: a son, whom we never saw, was supposed to be leading thesame life that his father had done before him, only we never saw orheard of any pupils; and there was one hard-working, honest{3} littleScottish maiden, square, stumpy, neat, and plain, who might have beenany age from eighteen to forty.
Looking back on the household now,