I am an orphan

I am an orphan. My father was one of two brothers, sons of a small farmer in Devonshire. The farm was a poor one, and the elder brother, Andrew, emigrated to Australia, where he did very well indeed, and by means of successful speculation in land became a very rich man. The younger brother, Roger (my father), did not like the agricultural life. He managed to educate himself a little and obtained a post as a clerk with a small firm. My mother was the daughter of a poor artist. My father died when I was six years old. When I was fourteen, my mother followed him to the grave. My only living relation then was my Uncle Andrew, who had recently returned from Australia and bought a small place in his native country. He was very kind to his brother's orphan child, took me to live with him, and treated me in every way as though I was his own daughter.

Although kindness itself to me my uncle had certain peculiar and deeply-rooted ideas as to the upbringing of women. Himself a man of little or no education, he placed little value on what he called "Book knowledge".

He was especially opposed to the education of women. In his opinion, girls should learn practical housework, be useful about the home, and have as little to do with book learning as possible. I rebelled frankly. I knew I possessed a good brain, and had absolutely no talent for domestic duties. My uncle and I had many bitter arguments on the subject. I was lucky enough to win a scholarship. I had a little money of my own left to me by my mother, and I was quite determined to make use of the gifts God had given me. I had one long, final argument with my uncle. He put the fads plainly before me. He had no other relation. And he had intended me to be his sole heiress. If I persisted in these notions of mine, however, I need looking for nothing from him. I remained polite, but firm. I should always be deeply attached to him, I told him, but I must lead my own life. I've never regretted my decision.