attempted to enter into
particulars, or give an account of the affairs he had so kindly and so
ably managed, she adjured him in so solemn a manner never to speak of
the past, if he wished her to retain her reason, that he, unconscious
of the motive, and believing it arose entirely from regret at her
changed fortunes, avoided it as much as she could desire; and thus
she had no opportunity of knowing how much had been saved by the
benevolence of a few kind persons. Sarah Bond fell into the very
common error of imagining that persons ought to _know_ her thoughts
and feelings, without her explaining them. But her mind and judgment
had been so enfeebled by illness and mental suffering, that, even
while she opposed her opinions, she absolutely leaned on Mabel--as
if the oak called to the woodbine to support its branches. What gave
Mabel the most uneasiness, was the determination she had formed to
leave the cottage as soon as she was able to be removed; and she
was seriously displeased because Mabel mentioned this intention to
Mr. Goulding. Despite all poor Mabel could urge to the contrary,
they quitted the neighbourhood--the sphere of Sarah Bond's sudden
elevation, and as sudden depression--alone, at night, and on foot. It
was a clear, moonlight evening, in midsummer, when the twilight can
hardly be said to give place to darkness; and when the moon shines out
so very brightly, that the stars are reduced to pale lone sparks of
_white_ rather than _light_, in the blue sky. It was a lovely evening;
the widow with whom they had lodged was not aware of their intention
until about an hour before their departure. She was very poor and
ignorant, but her nature was kind; and when Sarah Bond pressed upon
her, out of her own scanty store, a little present of money beyond her
stipulated rent, she would not take it, but accompanied them to the
little gate with many tears, receiving charge of a farewell letter
to the rector. "And haven't you one to leave me for the curate?" she
inquired. "Deary me! but I'm sure for every once the old gentleman
came when Miss Bond was so bad, the curate came three times; and no
letter for him! deary, oh, deary me!"

"Why did you not put me in mind to write to Mr. Lycight, Mabel?"
inquired her aunt, after the gate, upon which the poor woman leaned,
had closed.

Mabel made no reply; but Sarah felt the hand she held tightly within
hers tremble and throb. How did she then remember the days of her own
youth,