o farther inducement to relieve her than to hear
she was in want. "Every fellow-creature in distress," she used to say,
"was a proper object of her bounty; and whilst she was blessed with
plenty she thought it her duty to relieve, as far as she prudently
could, all whom she knew to be in need." She therefore fetched a mug,
and, filling it with milk herself, gave it to the poor woman to drink.
"Here," said she, "take this, good woman, and I hope it will refresh and
be of service to you." Betsy held out her hand for it, and, lifting her
eyes up to look at Mrs. Flail, whilst she thanked her for her kindness,
was greatly astonished to discover in her benefactress, the features
of her old servant, Molly Mount. "Bless me!" said she, with an air
of confusion, "What do I see? Who is it? Where am I? Madam, pardon my
boldness, but pray forgive me, ma'am, but is not your name Mount?" "It
was," replied Mrs. Flail, "but I have been married for thirteen years to
a Mr. Flail, and that is my name now. But, pray, where did you ever see
me before? or how came you to know anything of me?" Poor Betsy could
return no answer, her shame at being seen by her servant that was, in
her present condition, and the consciousness of having so ill-treated
that very servant, to whose kindness she was now indebted; all together
were too much for her in her weak state, and she fell senseless at Mrs.
Flail's feet.

'This still added to Mrs. Flail's surprise, and she had her carried into
the house and laid upon a bed, where she used every means to bring her
to herself again; which, after a considerable time, succeeded; and she
then (covered with shame and remorse) told her who she was, and how
she came into that miserable condition. No words can describe the
astonishment Mrs. Flail was in, at hearing the melancholy story of her
sufferings; nor is it possible to tell with what generosity and kindness
she strove to comfort her, telling her to compose herself, for she
should no longer be in want of any thing. "I have, thank Heaven," said
she, "a most worthy good man for my husband, who will rejoice with me in
having it in his power to relieve a suffering fellow-creature. Do not,
therefore, any longer distress yourself upon what passed between us
formerly. I had, for my part, forgotten it, if you had not now told it
me; but, however I might then take the liberty to censure you for too
much haughtiness. I am sure I have no occasion to do so now. Think no
more,