For who had been Jacquelina’s educators?

First, there was the commodore, with his alternations of blustering wrath and foolish fondness, giving way to his anger, or indulging his love, without the slightest regard to the effect produced upon his young ward—­too often abusing her for something really admirable in her nature—­and full as frequently praising her for something proportionately reprehensible in her conduct.

Next, there was the dark, and solemn, and fanatical Dr. Grimshaw, her destined bridegroom, who really and truly loved the child to fatuity, and conscientiously did the very best he could for her mental and moral welfare, according to his light.  Alas! “when the light that is in one is darkness, how great is that darkness!” Jacquelina rewarded his serious efforts with laughter, and flattered him with the pet names of Hobgoblin, Ghoul, Gnome, Ogre, etc.  Yet she did not dislike her solemn suitor—­she never had taken the matter so seriously as that!  And he on his part bore the eccentricities of the elf with matchless patience, for he loved her, as I said, to fatuity—­doted on her with a passion that increased with ripening years, and of late consumed him like a fever.

And then there was her mother, last named because, whatever she should have been, she really was the least important of Jacquelina’s teachers.  Fear was the key-note of Mrs. L’Oiseau’s character—­the key-stone in the arch of her religious faith—­she feared everything—­the opinion of the world, the unfaithfulness of friends, changes in the weather, reverses of fortune, pain, sickness, sorrow, want, labor!

Now the time had not yet come for this proposed marriage to shock the merry maiden.  She was “ower young to marry yet.”

So thought not the commodore; for a year past, since his niece had attained the age of fourteen, he had been worrying himself and the elders of the family to have the marriage solemnized, “before the little devil shall have time to get some other notion into her erratic head,” he said.  All were opposed to him, holding over his head the only rod he dreaded, the opinion of the world.

“What would people say if you were to marry your niece of fourteen to a man of thirty-four?” they urged.

“But I tell you, young men are beginning to pay attention to her now, and I can’t take her to church that some jackanapes don’t come capering around her, and the minx will get some whim in her head like Edith did—­I know she will!  Just see how Edith disappointed me! ungrateful huzzy! after my bringing her up and educating her, for her to do so!  While, if she had married Grim when I wanted her to do it, by this time I’d have had my grandchil—!  I mean nieces and nephews climbing about my knees.  But by ——!  I won’t be frustrated this time!”

And so Jacquelina was kept more secluded than ever.  Secluded from society, but not from nature.  The forest became her haunt.  And a chance traveler passing through it, and meeting her fay-like form, might well suppose he was deceived with the vision of a wood-nymph.