First training

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I do not recall the passing of my dear Mama, for I was then too young. I guard her likeness still, faded as it has become. That she was a gentle woman I have no doubts. I would have followed in her ways, perhaps, had not my father remarried when I was thirteen.

I remember well the coming of Stepmama, as I first called her. Father was then no more than thirty-five and she his junior by seven years. I remember her being all of a glitter, much taken with jewelry as she ever is, tight-waisted, slender, and an allure to all male eyes. I remember that she awed me a little at first, for her voice, though well modulated, caused even Papa to take immediate notice of her at all times, it having a quality to it that is rare to encounter.

Strange were those first days, for sometimes there was merriment, social gatherings and parties, and at others a benign silence in the house which Papa seemed to accept as his due. My brother Robert was then fifteen and much taken with her. She would tease or even flatter him sometimes, but at others scold him and send him to his room. All things began to change. There was much alteration of furniture with carts drawn by great dray horses coming and going. This occasioned much excitement, but we were not allowed to express it unduly. There was too much clutter in the rooms, she declared, and so many small tables and whatnots among which the housemaids had to thread their way when cleaning were cleared away and more space made. In place of small settees, larger ones were brought in, their ornate coverings delighting me so that I loved to bounce up and down on them and feel their richly patterned surfaces.

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