With the eye of memory, I again saw my mother,
as she stood bowed with grief at the grave of my father; and now I was
left alone to mourn for both father and mother. Memory also fondly
turned to Miss Edmonds, my first teacher. I felt that to see her again
would indeed be happiness; but I knew not where Miss Edmonds then
resided. The last time I had heard from her she contemplated going
South, as governess in a gentleman's family. Then came the memory of the
happy years I passed in Mrs. Wentworth's school. Where now were the many
friends I had then known and loved? As these thoughts passed in quick
succession through my mind, I could not refrain from weeping; and, as I
was under no restraint from the presence of others, my tears seemed
almost a luxury. I know not how long my fit of weeping might have
continued had not one of the domestics entered the room, and informed me
that a poor woman was in the kitchen seeking charity.
"I thought," said the girl, "as the other ladies are all away, you might
give her a trifle, for she seems very needy."
Hastily drying my tears, I went down to the kitchen, where I found a
young woman, who would have been very pretty but for the look of want
and suffering depicted upon her countenance.
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