r into my arms that day, and
surely meant me to keep her. She was a direct 'gift', so I accept the
responsibility as a solemn charge."
Miss Sherbourne's decision met with considerable opposition from her
relations.
"You're quixotic and foolish, Barbara, to think of attempting such a
thing," urged her aunt. "It's absurd, at your age, to saddle yourself
with a child to bring up. Why, you may wish to get married!"
"No, no," said Miss Barbara hastily, her thoughts on an old heartache
that obstinately refused to accept decent burial; "that will never
be--now. You must not take that contingency into consideration at all."
"You may think differently in a year or two, and it would be cruelty to
the child to bring her up as a lady and then hand her over to an
institution."
"I should not do her that injustice. I take her now, and promise to keep
her always."
"But with your small means you really cannot afford it."
"I am sure I shall be able to manage, and the child herself is
sufficient compensation for anything I must sacrifice; she's a companion
already."
"Well, I don't approve of it," said Aunt Lydia, with disfavour. "If you
want companionship, you can always have one of your nieces to stay a
week or two with you."
"It's not the same; they have their own homes and their own parents, and
are never anything but visitors at my house. However fond they may be of
me, I feel I am only a very secondary consideration in their lives. I
can't be content with such crumbs of affection. Little Dorothy seems
entirely mine, because she has nobody else in the world to love her."
"Then you actually intend to assume the full responsibility of her
maintenance, and to educate her in your own station--a child sprung from
who knows where?"
"Certainly. I shall regard her absolutely as my niece, and I shall
never part with her unless someone should come and show a higher right
than mine to claim her."
Having exhausted all their arguments, Miss Sherbourne's relatives gave
her up in despair. She was old enough to assert her own will and manage
her own affairs, and if she liked to spend a large proportion of her
scanty income on bringing up a foundling,--well, she need not expect any
help from them in the matter. They ignored the child, and never asked it
to their houses, refusing to recognize that it had any claim to be
treated on an equality with their own children, and disapproving from
first to last of the whole proceedin
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