ircle looking at her, while their mother exhorted them
to "take a pattern" by Miss Vivian. The novelty, the awe which she
inspired, the real kindness about her, ended in overcoming in Mary's
young mind the first miserable impression of such a return to her home.
It gave her a kind of pleasure to write to Mrs. Bowyer that she had found
employment, and had thought it better to accept it at once. "Don't be
angry with me; and I think you will understand me," she said. And then
she gave herself up to the strange new scene.

The "ways" of the large simple-minded family, homely, yet kindly, so
transformed Lady Mary's graceful old rooms that they no longer looked the
same place. And when Mary sat down with them at the big heavy-laden
table, surrounded with the hum of so large a party, it was impossible for
her to believe that everything was not new about her. In no way could the
saddening recollections of a home from which the chief figure had
disappeared, have been more completely broken up. Afterwards Mrs. Turner
took her aside, and begged to know which was Mary's old room, "for I
should like to put you there, as if nothing had happened." "Oh, do not
put me there!" Mary cried, "so much has happened." But this seemed a
refinement to the kind woman, which it was far better for her young guest
not to "yield" to. The room Mary had occupied had been next to her
godmother's, with a door between, and when it turned out that Connie,
with an elder sister, was in Lady Mary's room, everything seemed
perfectly arranged in Mrs. Turner's eyes. She thought it was
providential,--with a simple belief in Mary's powers that in other
circumstances would have been amusing. But there was no amusement in
Mary's mind when she took possession of the old room "as if nothing
had happened." She sat by the fire for half the night, in an agony of
silent recollection and thought, going over the last days of her
godmother's life, calling up everything before her, and realizing as she
had never realized till now, the lonely career on which she was setting
out, the subjection to the will and convenience of strangers in which
henceforth her life must be passed. This was a kind woman who had opened
her doors to the destitute girl; but notwithstanding, however great the
torture to Mary, there was no escaping this room which was haunted by the
saddest recollections of her life. Of such things she must no longer
complain,--nay, she must think of nothing but thankin