I know how to work satin stitch wondrous nicely, and I have a great desire to work something pretty for my Lady, but here is this great basket of Lady Jemima's staring me in the face all the time. I wish I had refused to have anything to do with it at first. And yet, according to her, there would be no merit in doing the robe for my Lady, because it would be a pleasure from beginning to end. I am sure it is no pleasure to work on these garments. They are so coarse that I think it will be no mean penance to wear them, and I must say, marvellous ill-contrived. I have neglected my journal and my recreation to work at them, but I am sure I am no better for the sacrifice, as yet. I wish I could talk the matter over with Mrs. Corbet. I feel as if she might shed some light on my difficulties. Mrs. Corbet brought me my parcel from Aunt Willson. The lawn she sent—a whole piece—is beautifully fine and sheen, and would be just the thing for my embroidery. There are besides some dressing things, cords and laces, pins, needles, bodkins, and a nice housewife, stored with abundance of thread of different kinds, and a new book for my journal, with some other papers. I wonder, by the by, how Aunt Willson knew I kept a journal? I suppose Felicia must have told her. Felicia herself sends me a kerchief and apron, of fine stuff, indeed, and well made, but "green," just the color she knows I never can wear, even if I were not in mourning. _May 12._ Mrs. Judith says Mr. Corbet is going southward on a journey, and is expecting to be gone some time. His mother, methinks, will be lonely without him. Of course I shall not see him before he goes, unless he comes to say good-by to Betty. I have not told her that he is going. I don't know how it is, but I do not feel like myself for a few days past. I feel fretful, and the least thing troubles me, and I do not sleep well, for the first time in my life. My head aches and feels heavy, so that I find it hard to exert myself to amuse Lady Betty, and I am glad that she has her dog to play with. I think I miss my afternoon walks, which I have given up to sew on the work which Lady Jemima left me. _May 13._ Mr. Corbet did come to bid Betty good-by, after all. More than that, he told me that he meant to go and see Mr. Carey, and most kindly offered to take charge of a packet for me; so I have written two long letters to mother and Dick. How pleasant it seems to think that he will see them all, and can tell me how dear mother is looking. _May 16._