At this time Jessie was ten years old, and I had entered the first stages of womanhood; as her mother became more and more frail, the dear child was almost entirely given up to me, and my love for her became absolute idolatry. The child had always been taught to call me aunt, and for her sake I was ready to give up all the bright social prospects that opened to me just then. Indeed, there never was a time in my life that I could not have found pleasure in sacrificing anything to the parents or the child. One thing troubled Mrs. Lee at this time,--a craving desire to go home seized upon her. With an invalid's incessant longing, she wearied of the objects that had so pleasantly amused her, and sighed for rest. But it had been arranged that Jessie should be educated at the same school which I had left, and the gentle mother could not find it in her heart to be separated from that dear one. Now came the time for my dream to be realized. Why should "Our Jessie" be given up to the hard routine of a school, when I could make her studies easy and her life pleasant. It was in my power to keep the mother and child in one home. I found Mr. Lee and his wife together one day, and made my proposition. I would become Jessie's governess. My generous friends protested against this. It was, they said, the opening of my life. In order to do this, I must give up the society which I had but just entered, and perhaps injure my own prospects in the future. No, no, they could not permit a sacrifice like this. But if they were generous, I was resolute. To have Jessie always with me, had been the brightest dream of my girlhood. I could not be persuaded to give it up. What did I care for society, if she was to suffer the dreary routine of the school-life from which I had but just been emancipated? I really think it would have broken my heart had the dear child been left behind. But great love always prevails. We sailed for America a united family, happy even with the drawback of Mrs. Lee's illness, which in itself was seldom painful, and her untiring cheerfulness was never broken. The valley of the Delaware had become highly cultivated in our long absence. A railroad ran up the banks of the river, from which our house could be seen standing on the hill-side miles and miles away. I started with surprise when it first met our view. A square stone tower, three stories high, loomed up behind the pointed gables and balconied front, giving a castellated air to the whole building.