"I do not want to be amused. I am going to work like a rational creature," said I; "do you think I am good for nothing but amusing myself, Alice? No, I have lived long enough for my own pleasure, and now that pleasure is out of the question, I want to live for others. I must have been very selfish all my life. I want to sacrifice myself now, and live for the good of the poor and the distressed." "Dear, it's a blessed thing to hear a young lady like you speak such words," said Alice, with tears in her eyes; "and to serve God and to be good to his poor, is the way to be happy, darling; but you never need to live solitary, or give up a good friend for that." "You do not understand me, Alice. I don't want to be happy," said I, sternly--"I want to do my duty--happiness is all over in this world for me. Do not say anything; you will only vex me; and you know I have no good friend to give up, even if I cared for it." Alice paused again, disconcerted, eager, ready to say a great deal, but afraid of offending me, I fancy; at last she thought it best to let me have my own way. "And what will you do, Miss Hester?" said Alice. "I scarcely know," said I, "the clergyman will tell me, and I will learn, and I am sure _you_ know, Alice, what ladies can do in the country. I could go to nurse the sick in the village--that is one thing." "But, dear Miss Hester," said Alice, "if the Queen had come to nurse your papa, do you think she could have made up to him, poor gentleman, for the want of you?" "No, no, no! why do you say such things?" said I. "Because poor folks feel just the same," said Alice, with a little dignity; "a poor man would sooner have his own wife, and a poor woman her mother, or her child, to nurse her, than the greatest lady in the land." I was slightly offended at what Alice said. "I will only go where I am of use, you may be sure," I said; "I will seek out the poor, and work for them. I will teach the children. I will take care of the old people. There is a great deal of misery everywhere--I can understand it now, and I will find plenty to do." "Yes, dear, there's plenty of trouble," said Alice, with a heavy sigh: "plenty of God's own sending, and plenty of our own making, Miss Hester--and old folks like me, that have seen grief, it goes to our heart to see the young and the great that have happiness at their feet, and will not stoop down to lift it--and that's the truth." "If you speak of me--I do not wish to hear of happiness. I have no longer anything to do with it," said I, angrily.