he was now my only parent; I
strove, earnestly strove, to love her; yet ever when I looked in her
face, she would seem to me to be the very identical person whom I
should have once thought sufficiently honoured by a slight inclination
of the head, and a civil How do you do, Mrs. Withers? One day, as
miss Lesley was hanging over her, with her accustomed fondness, Dr.
Wheelding reading in a prayer-book, and, as I thought, not at that
moment regarding us, I threw myself on my knees and silently prayed
that I too might be able to love my mother.

Dr. Wheelding had been observing me: he took me into the garden, and
drew from me the subject of my petition. "Your prayers, my good young
lady," said he, "I hope are heard; sure I am they have caused me to
adopt a resolution, which, as it will enable you to see your mother
frequently, will, I hope, greatly assist your pious wishes.

"I will take your mother home with me to superintend my family. Under
my roof doubtless sir Edward will often permit you to see her. Perform
your duty towards her as well as you possibly can.--Affection is the
growth of time. With such good wishes in your young heart, do not
despair that in due time it will assuredly spring up."

With the approbation of sir Edward and lady Harriot, my mother was
removed in a few days to Dr. Wheelding's house: there she soon
recovered--there she at present resides. She tells me she loves me
almost as well as she did when I was a baby, and we both wept at
parting when I came to school.

Here perhaps I ought to conclude my story, which I fear has been a
tedious one: permit me however to say a few words concerning the time
which elapsed since the discovery of my birth until my arrival here.

It was on the fifth day of ---- that I was known to be Ann Withers,
and the daughter of my supposed nurse. The company who were witness to
my disgrace departed in a few days, and I felt relieved from some part
of the mortification I hourly experienced. For every fresh instance
even of kindness or attention I experienced went to my heart, that I
should be forced to feel thankful for it.

Circumstanced as I was, surely I had nothing justly to complain of.
The conduct of sir Edward and lady Harriot was kind in the extreme;
still preserving every appearance of a parental tenderness for me,
but ah! I might no longer call them by the dear names of father and
mother.--Formerly when speaking of them, I used, proud of their
titles, to de