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Updated: May 10, 2025
Then I saw Miss Olever, the head teacher, familiarly called "Sissy Jane." In that real and beautiful presence Miss Fitzallen retired to her old place, and oh, the mortification she left behind her! I looked up, a detected criminal, into the face of her who had brought to me this humiliation, and took her for a model.
This incident, so much to me, he never could distinguish among the many times he had "helped Olever and his seminary girls out of scrapes," and he never spoke of these adventures without that same laugh which I noticed when Father Olever thanked him.
We knew we were in a wood, by the rush of the wind amid the dried white oak leaves knew that the road grew rougher at every step that our driver became more nervous as he applied the brake, and we went down, down. Still the descent grew steeper. We stopped, and Father Olever felt for the bank with his whip to be sure we were on the road.
The stream, so loud and angry on that night of my first entrance into this vale of tears, was now low, and sang a lullaby of angelic music as I crossed it on stepping stones. On the hillside it was almost as dark as that night when Father Olever stopped and felt for the bank with his whip.
In lieu of colleges for girls, there were boarding-schools, and Edgeworth was esteemed one of the best in the State. It was at Braddock's Field, and Mrs. Olever, an English woman of high culture, was its founder and principal. To it my cousin, Mary Alexander, was sent, but returned homesick, and refused to go back unless I went with her.
It was the homestead of a soldier of the Revolution, one of Washington's lieutenants the old man we had seen. The woman was his second wife. They had a numerous family, and an unpronounceable name. At home I learned that, on account of a cough, I had been the object of a generous conspiracy between mother and Mrs. Olever, and had been brought home because I was worse.
It was arranged that I should go for a few weeks, as I was greatly in need of country air; and, highly delighted, I was at the rendezvous at the hour, one o'clock, with my box, ready for this excursion into the world of polite literature. Mary was also there, and a new scholar, but Father Olever did not come for us until four o'clock.
Olever sent for me, and told me she had learned my mother was not able to send me to school, but if I would take charge of the lessons of the little girls, she would furnish me board and tuition. This most generous offer quite took my breath away, and was most gladly accepted; but it was easy work, and I wondered my own studies were so light.
When we had been carefully bestowed in the wagon, our deliverer took up his lantern, saying to Father Olever: "Drive on." He was obeyed, and led the way over a bridge across another noisy stream, and along a road where there was the sound of a waterfall very near, then up a steep, rocky way until he stopped, saying, "I guess you can get along now."
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