Alice paused, chilled and overcast once more; it was difficult for her, a humble, simple woman, who rarely was offended, and who, when she was, forgave like a Christian, and never suffered the sun to go down upon her wrath, to understand or to deal with me; she stole round behind my chair, and bent down on the ground by my feet. "Miss Hester, will you forgive me? you are used to me--you would not take to another for a long time, dear. I was your nurse, and I have been your maid, Miss Hester, all your life--don't cast off Alice. May be, I don't deserve that you ever should trust me more; but let me be beside you, darling; let me serve you, and wait on you, and comfort you if I can. Oh! Miss Hester, my dear sweet young lady trusted in me--and even your papa trusted in me--don't cast me off, for you are my own child." I cried long and bitterly. I could not help it. The pleading of Alice recalled again to me how desolate and solitary I was. I had not a friend in the world, old or young, to whom I could confide my trouble; not one whom I could lean upon if I was ill or suffering; alas, not a woman in existence, except herself, whom I should have wished even to see again! and disappointed as I was in those hopes of perfect sympathy and union with my husband, which every one forms at some time or other; my heart yearned for the natural solace--the comfort of mother or of sister which providence had denied to me. I let my hand fall upon her shoulder--I leaned upon her. "Oh, Alice, Alice, why did you deceive me?" I cried with a great burst of tears. She did not answer anything, she drew me close to her bosom, and caressed me, and soothed me. My heart beat calmer. I was subdued--I scarcely knew how, as I leant upon Alice. I seemed to have found some rest and comfort for which I had been seeking vainly. When she began to weep over me, my own tears stayed; my heart was eased because I had forgiven her, and then I raised myself up, and we sat together speaking of my father. I had never heard about his last days.