"Let me see you henceforth what you used to be--cheerful and contented, thankful and happy, and not over-anxious about matters which in the end will all probably come right. You have my entire forgiveness of the past, even though you do not ask it; but let me not be imposed upon for the future. Go, Margaret, go; and let me hear no more of these complaints." Margaret heard all that her mistress said in perfect silence. She neither defended herself, nor yet thanked her mistress, as she used to do. She seemed sullen and indifferent. She left the presence of that kind lady and most sincere friend with scarce a curtsy, and with such a pale, downcast countenance, as deeply distressed her benefactress. Then was it the painful reflection occurred, that her servant's religious principles had been neglected; that her duty as a servant had been done from no higher motive than that of pleasing man; and that when she had failed to do so, and received a rebuke, her spirit would not bear it. These reflections pressed themselves upon the kind lady's mind, and she resolved to do her best to correct for the future that which appeared so deficient. Margaret returned to the kitchen unaltered, saving in feature; she was silent, pale, and restless. She did her work mechanically, but something appeared to be working upon her in a very strange way. She could not sit still a moment. Sometimes she put down her work, and sat looking at the fire, as if she was counting the coals upon it. At one time she would rise and appear to go in search of something, without knowing what she went for. At another time she would bite her lips and mutter something, as if she were resolute and determined upon some point which she did not reveal. Her fellow-servants did not lay anything to her, and took as little notice as her strange manner would permit. They all considered that something very unpleasant had occurred between herself and her mistress. Some surmised that warning had been given; others that she would leave of her own accord; but all felt sorry that one who had been so highly esteemed should now be so perverse. One evening, in the midst of these domestic arrangements of the kitchen, when all the servants were assembled, a knock was heard at the back-kitchen door; the girl who opened it immediately called out, "Another sailor wants to see you, Margaret!" Without rising from her seat, as she was accustomed to do with alacrity upon such occasions, Margaret petulantly and passionately replied, loud enough for the sailor to hear her through the door of the kitchen, which now stood open, "Tell the fellow to go about his business! I have nothing to do with, or to say to, any more sailors. Tell him to be off!" The sailor stepped one step forward, and pitched a canvas bag in at the kitchen-door, which fell with a loud chink upon the bricks. He had heard the words of Margaret, and was off in a moment.