CHAPTER V.

SARAH BROWNE, who, it may be remembered, was the girl upon whom Alice had bestowed so much time and solicitude, had fully requited her for all her kindness, and had become a truly good and religious character. Her brothers and sisters were the objects of her tenderest care, and to her father she was a most affectionate daughter.

Alice had never lost sight of her; it was delightful to see the manner in which she, poor girl! now conducted herself, as she had the heartfelt comfort of knowing that she had been instrumental in bringing her to the right path.

Sarah's unhappiness at the calamity which had befallen her young benefactress was extreme; and her heart, full of gratitude for all her numerous benefits, longed for some means of evincing it by deed, as well as by her words. She was constantly hovering about Elm Grove, in the hope of hearing some tidings of her; and at length heard with bitter grief, that she was to quit that part of the country in a few days with her mother.

"What would I give to go with them!" said Sarah to her informant.

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Why, bless you!" said the woman, "they have scarcely now enough to keep themselves, much less servants. They go off on Monday, and leave all their fine ladies and gentlemen behind them: they would all be too grand for them now. Lord knows! they are all sorry enough to lose such good mistresses; and Thomas the groom, and Miss Alice's maid, do nothing but sob and cry about the house. Indeed, I don't know where there is a

dry eye to be found. We shall all miss them, and I fear we shall never see their like again."

"But," said Sarah, who appeared to have been lost for some time in thought, "do you not think they would take me, who am an humble girl brought up in poverty, and accustomed to privations? I would do every thing for them, and want no pay. Dry bread would satisfy me—and O how sweet would be that bread earned in such a service! Night and day I would be ready and willing; and what sacrifice would be too great for one who has been the means, I humbly hope, of saving my soul? O Miss Alice!" continued the poor girl, "you have taught me to feel such comfort, by raising my mind beyond this world! you have made me from a sinner, now at least a penitent to you my strongest earthly love is devoted."

The woman who was listening to her was moved by her affliction, and told her

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that she would mention her wish of being useful to Mrs. Seymour and her daughter, to Thomas the groom, who was her brother, and who might contrive some means of gaining her admittance to the presence of his young mistress.

According to her promise, she met Sarah in the same place the next morning, and informed her that she might follow her to the Grove.

On their arrival, Thomas met them, and conducting Sarah into the house, desired her to wait in an upper gallery leading from the apartments occupied by Mrs. Seymour, from whence he had no doubt but that Miss Alice would soon appear.

Sarah remained in a state of trembling agitation. She dreaded seeing her beloved benefactress in sorrow; she feared that this might be the last time she might ever again have the happiness of behold. ing her; for she could scarcely believe that she might dare to look forward to

any thing so delightful, as being allowed to accompany them. She hardly knew what to say, and vainly endeavoured to frame a speech suitable for the occasion.

Presently she saw a door open, and Alice slowly approached. How different from her usual light and happy step!

Slowly and languidly did she move, with her eyes bent to the ground. Sarah could perceive that she looked thin and pale, and her eyes were red, as if from weeping. Alice had indeed just quitted her mother's bedside, where a scene of a most affecting nature had taken place.

Mrs. Seymour had passed a wretched night; but in the morning had sunk into a profound slumber. Her poor child had been watching by her, and contemplating her pale, worn countenance, upon which the impression of pain and sorrow were deeply impressed. She had been thinking of what a change awaited her beloved mother. Surrounded as she was now by every luxury, reposing in a bed con