By conscience deserted, by law unrestrain’d,
  A felon, convicted, unblushing, and chain’d;
  Too late from the dark dream of ruin he woke
  To remember the wife whose fond heart he had broke;
  The children abandon’d to sorrow and shame,
  Their deepest misfortune the brand of his name. 
  Oh, dire was the curse he invoked on his soul,
  Then gave his last mite for a draught of the bowl!

CHAPTER XXVI

A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS

  The future flower lies folded in the bud,—­
  Its beauty, colour, fragrance, graceful form,
  Carefully shrouded in that tiny cell;
  Till time and circumstance, and sun and shower,
  Expand the embryo blossom—­and it bursts
  Its narrow cerements, lifts its blushing head,
  Rejoicing in the light and dew of heaven. 
  But if the canker-worm lies coil’d around
  The heart o’ the bud, the summer sun and dew
  Visit in vain the sear’d and blighted flower.

During my illness, a kind neighbour, who had not only frequently come to see me, but had brought me many nourishing things, made by her own fair hands, took a great fancy to my second daughter, who, lively and volatile, could not be induced to remain quiet in the sick chamber.  The noise she made greatly retarded my recovery, and Mrs. H—–­ took her home with her, as the only means of obtaining for me necessary rest.  During that winter and through the ensuing summer, I only received occasional visits from my little girl, who, fairly established with her new friends, looked upon their house as her home.

This separation, which was felt as a great benefit at the time, greatly estranged the affections of the child from her own people.  She saw us so seldom that she almost regarded us, when she did meet, as strangers; and I often deeply lamented the hour when I had unwittingly suffered the threefold cord of domestic love to be unravelled by absence, and the flattering attentions which fed the vanity of a beautiful child, without strengthening her moral character.  Mrs. H—–­, whose husband was wealthy, was a generous, warm-hearted girl of eighteen.  Lovely in person, and fascinating in manners, and still too young to have any idea of forming the character of a child, she dressed the little creature expensively; and, by constantly praising her personal appearance, gave her an idea of her own importance which it took many years to eradicate.

It is a great error to suffer a child, who has been trained in the hard school of poverty and self-denial, to be transplanted suddenly into the hot-bed of wealth and luxury.  The idea of the child being so much happier and better off blinds her fond parents to the dangers of her new situation, where she is sure to contract a dislike to all useful occupation, and to look upon scanty means and plain clothing as a disgrace.  If the re-action is bad for a grown-up person, it is almost destructive to a child who is incapable of moral reflection.  Whenever I saw little Addie, and remarked the growing coldness of her manner towards us, my heart reproached me for having exposed her to temptation.