I WAS roused out of my sleep at peep of day by a shake at my collar, and saw Mr Mather; who, in a voice of the utmost composure, desired me to get up immediately. He took me by the hand, and, without letting me put on anything but my shoes, led me down stairs, and so out to the orchard behind the house. He did not say a word to me until we were in the midst of the trees. He then took a handkerchief out of one pocket, and a small riding whip out of the other, and, seizing my two hands in one of his, began to cast a knot over them with his handkerchief.

My aunt had often corrected me in former days, but not recently, and Mr Mather had never before offered to strike me even with his hand; so that my surprise at this behaviour was as great as my indignation. I said to him, almost choking, “Unhand me, sir! What do you mean?—Who are you, that you should treat me thus?”

He made no answer, but bound my arms above my head to a bough of a tree, and flung my shirt over my face. I resisted with all my might, but I was now blinded, and I only once hit him, and that not until I had kicked both my shoes off.—He drew his whip lightly once or twice over my back, and then laid on three several deliberate stripes, that cut the skin clean through, from the nape of the neck downwards. I screamed out at the first blow, but stood shivering in mute rage under the two last.

“This will teach you to brave me again,” he whispered in my ear;—and I heard his footsteps retreating.

A minute after, the footman came out of the house and unbound me. I was shaking all over, and the lad half led, half carried me, to my room, where he made me swallow a glass of water, and put me to bed again. He sat by me until my back had stopped bleeding, and then dressed it for me with a little linen and lard, in vain endeavouring all the while to get me into any talk whatever.