ma, mamma, I know you are
my mamma, though I have got four other mammas here." She had grown very
much, and instead of going off in beauty, had become one of the most
perfect little creatures I ever set eyes on. Nothing could be more
hearty than the welcome we received, and the dear old lady told my
mother that she must look upon herself as one of the family, and only
help the other ladies just as much as she felt inclined. Mrs Lindars,
soon after we arrived, begged we would come up, and the Little Lady,
taking me by the hand, led the way. There was something very striking
in the affectionate and tender way the Little Lady addressed Mrs
Lindars; indeed it for the moment struck me that they were something
alike, though one was somewhat advanced in life, and the features of the
other were scarcely yet formed. Mrs Lindars welcomed my mother very
kindly. "And Ben has indeed grown into a fine lad," she observed. "And
Emily, too, you see her greatly improved, Mrs Burton. Ben, you must be
her champion if she requires one. Alas! I fear she will. I trust her
fate may be happier than mine."

"Yes, ma'am, I will fight for her, that I will," I answered, looking at
Emily; "not that I think anyone would ever be so wicked as to try and
harm her." The poor lady smiled sadly and shook her head.

"Beauty is rather a snare than a protection," she observed.

Of course I did not exactly understand her meaning; I heard afterwards,
though I think I have already alluded to the fact, that the poor lady
had, at a very early age, married a foreigner, calling himself Lindars,
and that she had one child, a girl. Her husband, after frequently
absenting himself, returned to Whithyford, when one day he and the child
disappeared. The poor mother was left in an agony of doubt as to what
had become of her infant, persuading herself that it had been murdered.
A letter, however, at length reached her from her husband, saying that
he was on the point of leaving England, and that he purposed carrying
the child with him. From that day she had never received the slightest
intelligence of her husband or daughter. Her brother Jack had been
absent from home at the time of her marriage, and five years passed away
before he again returned, so that he had been unable to assist her in
her inquiries. I was placed for instruction under the care of an old
gentleman residing in the village, who had formerly been a schoolmaster.
He was well able to impa