"Ah! madam," returned the poor woman, "such a heart as yours never ought to be tutored in the ways of unhappiness. But, as you observe, there are other afflictions which may compare with the stings of want!" And the unhappy creature wept bitterly. The lady endeavoured to console her to the best of her ability; and even in the short conversation which passed between them during the ride from the West End to the City, the invalid gave proofs of a superior understanding and cultivated mind. At length they reached Cannon Street, and stopped at a house, the lower portion of which was a stationer's shop. The lady occupied apartments on the first floor. "Oh! Mrs. Chichester, how long you have been absent!" exclaimed the mistress of the house, who opened the door. "I really began to be alarmed—" "Thanks for your kind consideration," interrupted Viola, with a smile—for the benevolent lady was none other than the neglected and persecuted wife of Mr. Chichester. "I have brought home a poor creature, whom I found insensible—dying—in the streets; and I request you to provide a room for her." "Ah! my dear lady, what an excellent disposition you possess!" exclaimed the mistress of the house. Then she bustled about to help the invalid up stairs; and the poor creature speedily experienced a feeling akin to happiness, when cheered by a comfortable fire and a good meal. Mrs. Chichester also supplied her with warm clothes; and a night's rest made her an altered being. On the following day she was enabled to narrate her history, which she did in the ensuing manner. CHAPTER CLXXVII. THE HISTORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN. "My name is Lydia Hutchinson. My father was the curate of a small village near Guildford; and fortune had frowned upon him with such continuous rancour from the moment he left the University where he graduated, that it was somewhat late in life ere he ventured to think of matrimony. After filling several different curacies, from which he was invariably removed at the deaths of the old incumbents and the arrival of the new ones, he seemed at length to settle down in the little village to which I have alluded. There he fell in love with the daughter of a half-pay officer as poor as himself; and, with only eighty pounds a year to depend upon, he embarked in the voyage of matrimony. A year after this union, a son was born, and christened by the name of Edgar: an interval of eighteen months elapsed, and I was ushered into the world. But my mother died in giving birth to me.