She knew not where her aunt was going, but followed her silently.  Sarah Bond led the way to a lowly grave, marked by a simple head-stone.  She knelt down by its side, and while her bosom throbbed, she prayed earnestly, deeply, within her very soul—­she prayed, now a faded, aged woman—­she prayed above the ashes, the crumbling bones of him she had loved with a love that never changes—­that is green when the head is gray—­that Mabel might never suffer as she had suffered.  Relieved by these devotional exercises, Sarah rose, and the humble and stricken pair bade adieu to the melancholy scene, and betook themselves to their toilsome journey.  Fortunately the stage soon overtook them, and having, with some difficulty, obtained seats, they were in due time deposited in a village, where Sarah felt there would be no eyes prying into their poverty, no ears to hear of it, no tongue to tell thereof, and point them out “as the poor ladies that once were rich.”  This was a great relief, though it came of pride, and she knew it; and she said within herself, When health strengthens my body, I will wrestle with this feeling, for it is unchristian.  She never even to Mabel alluded to what was heaviest on her mind—­the loss of the old furniture; though she cheered her niece by the assurance that, after a few months, if the Almighty blessed the exertions they must make for their own support, she would write to their friend Mr. Goulding, and say where they were; by “that time,” she said, she hoped to be humble, as a Christian should be.  After this assurance was given, it was astonishing to see how Mabel revived.  Her steps recovered their elasticity, her eyes their brightness.  Sarah Bond had always great superiority in needlework, and this procured her employment; while Mabel obtained at once, by her grace and correct speaking, two or three day pupils.  Her wild and wayward temper had been subdued by change of circumstances; but if she had not found occupation it would have become morose Here was not only occupation, but success; success achieved by the most legitimate means—­the exertion of her own faculties; there were occasionally bitter tears and many disappointments; and the young soft fingers, so slender and beautiful, were obliged to work in earnest; and she was forced by necessity to rise early and watch late; and then she had to think, not how pounds could be spent, but pennies could be earned.  We need not, however, particularize their labours in this scene of tranquil usefulness.  It is sufficient to say that Mabel’s little school increased; and both she and her aunt came at length to feel and speak thankfully of the uses of adversity, and bless God for taking as well as for giving.

CHAPTER V.