'I understand you,' said Adeline, kissing away the tears gathering in Editha's eyes, at sight of Savanna's distress: 'but perhaps I think my death would be of more service to my child than my life.' 'And to me too, I suppose,' replied Savanna reproachfully. 'Well,--me go to Scotland; for no one love me but the tawny boy.' 'You will stay and close my eyes first, I hope!' observed Adeline mournfully. In a moment Savanna's resentment vanished. 'Me will live and die vid you,' she replied, her tears redoubling, while Adeline again sunk into thoughtful silence. As soon as they reached Penrith, Adeline inquired for lodgings out of the town, on that side nearest to her mother's abode; and was so fortunate, as she esteemed herself, to procure two apartments at a small house within two miles of Mrs Mowbray's. 'Then I breathe once more the same air with my mother!' exclaimed Adeline as she took possession of her lodging. 'Savanna, methinks I breathe freer already!' 'Me more choked,' replied the mulatto, and turned sullenly away. 'Nay, I--I feel so much better, that to-morrow I will--I will take a walk,' said Adeline hesitatingly. 'And where?' asked Savanna eagerly. 'Oh, to-night I shall only walk to bed,' replied Adeline smiling; and with unusual cheerfulness she retired to rest. The next morning she arose early; and being informed that a stile near a peasant's cottage commanded a view of Mrs Mowbray's house, she hired a man and cart to convey her to the bottom of the hill, and with Editha by her side she set out to indulge her feelings by gazing on the house which contained her mother. When they alighted, Editha gaily endeavoured to climb the hill, and urged her mother to follow her; but Adeline, rendered weak by illness and breathless by emotion, felt the ascent so difficult, that no motive less powerful than the one which actuated her could have enabled her to reach the summit. At length, however, she did reach it:--and the lawn before Mrs Mowbray's white house, her hay-fields, and the running stream at the bottom of it, burst in all their beauty on her view.--'And this is my mother's dwelling!' exclaimed Adeline: 'and there was I born: and near here--' shall I die, she would have added, but her voice failed her. 'Oh! what a pretty house and garden!' cried Editha in the unformed accents of childhood;--'how I should like to live there!' This artless remark awakened a thousand mixed and overpowering feelings in the bosom of Adeline; and, after a pause of strong emotion, she exclaimed, catching the little prattler to her heart--'you _shall_ live there, my child!--yes, yes, you _shall_ live there!' 'But when?' resumed Editha. 'When I am in my grave,' answered Adeline. 'And when shall you be there?' replied the unconscious child, fondly caressing her: 'pray, mamma--pray be there soon!' Adeline turned away, unable to answer her. 'Look--look, mamma!'--resumed Editha: 'there are ladies.--Oh! do let us go there now!--why can't we?'