“When I got to the cottage, Peggy declared that she would not take what I had brought secretly; but, when, with all the eager eloquence inspired by a decided purpose, I grasped her hand with weeping eyes, assuring her that my uncle would screen me from blame, when he was once more in the country, describing, at the same time, what she would suffer in parting with her children, after keeping them so long from being thrown on the parish, she reluctantly consented.

“My project of usefulness ended not here; I determined to speak to the attorney; he frequently paid me compliments.  His character did not intimidate me; but, imagining that Peggy must be mistaken, and that no man could turn a deaf ear to such a tale of complicated distress, I determined to walk to the town with Mary the next morning, and request him to wait for the rent, and keep my secret, till my uncle’s return.

“My repose was sweet; and, waking with the first dawn of day, I bounded to Mary’s cottage.  What charms do not a light heart spread over nature!  Every bird that twittered in a bush, every flower that enlivened the hedge, seemed placed there to awaken me to rapture—­yes; to rapture.  The present moment was full fraught with happiness; and on futurity I bestowed not a thought, excepting to anticipate my success with the attorney.

“This man of the world, with rosy face and simpering features, received me politely, nay kindly; listened with complacency to my remonstrances, though he scarcely heeded Mary’s tears.  I did not then suspect, that my eloquence was in my complexion, the blush of seventeen, or that, in a world where humanity to women is the characteristic of advancing civilization, the beauty of a young girl was so much more interesting than the distress of an old one.  Pressing my hand, he promised to let Peggy remain in the house as long as I wished.—­I more than returned the pressure—­I was so grateful and so happy.  Emboldened by my innocent warmth, he then kissed me—­and I did not draw back—­I took it for a kiss of charity.

“Gay as a lark, I went to dine at Mr. Venables’.  I had previously obtained five shillings from my father, towards re-clothing the poor children of my care, and prevailed on my mother to take one of the girls into the house, whom I determined to teach to work and read.

“After dinner, when the younger part of the circle retired to the music room, I recounted with energy my tale; that is, I mentioned Peggy’s distress, without hinting at the steps I had taken to relieve her.  Miss Venables gave me half-a-crown; the heir five shillings; but George sat unmoved.  I was cruelly distressed by the disappointment—­I scarcely could remain on my chair; and, could I have got out of the room unperceived, I should have flown home, as if to run away from myself.  After several vain attempts to rise, I leaned my head against the marble chimney-piece, and gazing on the evergreens that filled the fire-place, moralized on the vanity of human expectations; regardless of the company.  I was roused by a gentle tap on my shoulder from behind Charlotte’s chair.  I turned my head, and George slid a guinea into my hand, putting his finger to his mouth, to enjoin me silence.