Miss Marks, as I shall take the liberty of calling this person, was so long a part of my life that I must pause to describe her.  She was tall, rather gaunt, with high cheek-bones; her teeth were prominent and very white; her eyes were china-blue, and were always absolutely fixed, wide open, on the person she spoke to; her nose was inclined to be red at the tip.  She had a kind, hearty, sharp mode of talking, but did not exercise it much, being on the whole taciturn.  She was bustling and nervous, not particularly refined, not quite, I imagine, what is called ’a lady’.  I supposed her, if I thought of the matter at all, to be very old, but perhaps she may have been, when we knew her first, some forty-five summers.  Miss Marks was an orphan, depending upon her work for her living; she would not, in these days of examinations, have come up to the necessary educational standards, but she had enjoyed experience in teaching, and was prepared to be a conscientious and careful governess, up to her lights.  I was now informed by my Father that it was in this capacity that she would in future take her place in our household.  I was not informed, what I gradually learned by observation, that she would also act in it as housekeeper.

Miss Marks was a somewhat grotesque personage, and might easily be painted as a kind of eccentric Dickens character, a mixture of Mrs. Pipchin and Miss Sally Brass.  I will confess that when, in years to come, I read ‘Dombey and Son’, certain features of Mrs. Pipchin did irresistibly remind me of my excellent past governess.  I can imagine Miss Marks saying, but with a facetious intent, that children who sniffed would not go to heaven.  But I was instantly ashamed of the parallel, because my gaunt old friend was a thoroughly good and honest woman, not intelligent and not graceful, but desirous in every way to do her duty.  Her duty to me she certainly did, and I am afraid I hardly rewarded her with the devotion she deserved.  From the first, I was indifferent to her wishes, and, as much as was convenient, I ignored her existence.  She held no power over my attention, and if I accepted her guidance along the path of instruction, it was because, odd as it may sound, I really loved knowledge.  I accepted her company without objection, and though there were occasional outbreaks of tantrums on both sides, we got on very well together for several years.  I did not, however, at any time surrender my inward will to the wishes of Miss Marks.

In the circle of our life the religious element took so preponderating a place, that it is impossible to avoid mentioning, what might otherwise seem unimportant, the theological views of Miss Marks.  How my Father had discovered her, or from what field of educational enterprise he plucked her in her prime, I never knew, but she used to mention that my Father’s ministrations had ‘opened her eyes’, from which ‘scales’ had fallen.  She had accepted, on their presentation to her, the entire gamut of his principles.  Miss