antom, Pleasure, through the guilty mazes of Dissipation, how easy it
is to be happy, if you will only be good!

When I folded up my things that night--when I reflected on the true
riches which I had scattered with such a lavish hand, from top to bottom
of the house of my wealthy aunt--I declare I felt as free from all
anxiety as if I had been a child again. I was so light-hearted that I
sang a verse of the Evening Hymn. I was so light-hearted that I fell
asleep before I could sing another. Quite like a child again! quite like
a child again!

So I passed that blissful night. On rising the next morning, how young I
felt! I might add, how young I looked, if I were capable of dwelling on
the concerns of my own perishable body. But I am not capable--and I add
nothing.

Towards luncheon time--not for the sake of the creature-comforts, but
for the certainty of finding dear aunt--I put on my bonnet to go to
Montagu Square. Just as I was ready, the maid at the lodgings in which I
then lived looked in at the door, and said, "Lady Verinder's servant, to
see Miss Clack."

I occupied the parlour-floor, at that period of my residence in London.
The front parlour was my sitting-room. Very small, very low in the
ceiling, very poorly furnished--but, oh, so neat! I looked into the
passage to see which of Lady Verinder's servants had asked for me. It
was the young footman, Samuel--a civil fresh-coloured person, with a
teachable look and a very obliging manner. I had always felt a spiritual
interest in Samuel, and a wish to try him with a few serious words. On
this occasion, I invited him into my sitting-room.

He came in, with a large parcel under his arm. When he put the parcel
down, it appeared to frighten him. "My lady's love, Miss; and I was to
say that you would find a letter inside." Having given that message, the
fresh-coloured young footman surprised me by looking as if he would have
liked to run away.

I detained him to make a few kind inquiries. Could I see my aunt, if I
called in Montagu Square? No; she had gone out for a drive. Miss Rachel
had gone with her, and Mr. Ablewhite had taken a seat in the carriage,
too. Knowing how sadly dear Mr. Godfrey's charitable work was in arrear,
I thought it odd that he should be going out driving, like an idle man.
I stopped Samuel at the door, and made a few more kind inquiries. Miss
Rachel was going to a ball that night, and Mr. Ablewhite had arranged to
come to coffee, and go wit