thaa begun to live,
and thank God thaa's come back to live at wom'.'

The girl shook her head, a stony stare in her eye, her mouth drawn
into a hard and immobile line. And then, in cold tones, she
continued:

'Nay, mother; I've hed enugh o' life. I tell thee I've come wom'
to dee.'

'Amanda,' sobbed the mother, 'if thaa taks on like that thaa'll
kill me. Thaa's welly done for me a'ready, but I con live naa
thaa's come back, if thaa'll nobbud live an' o', and live wi' me.
Sit thee daan. There's th' owd cheer (chair) waiting for thee.
It's thi cheer, Amanda; awlus wor, and awlus will be. Sit thee
daan. It looks some onely (lonely) baat thee.'

There stood Amanda's chair, the chair of her girlhood, the chair
in which she had sung through the long winter nights, in which her
deft fingers had wrought needlework, the envy of Rehoboth. The old
arms mutely opened as though to welcome her; the rockers, too,
seemed ready to yield that oscillation so seductive to the jaded
frame. And the trimmings! and the cushion! the same old pattern,
somewhat faded, perhaps, but as warm and cosy as in the days of
yore. It was the chair, too, at which she used to kneel, the chair
that had so often caught the warm breath from her lips as she had
whispered, 'Our Father, which art in heaven.' But had she not
forfeited her right to that chair? Of that throne of sanctity she
felt she was now no longer queen. And again, as her mother pressed
her to take her appointed place, she shook her head, her heart
steeled with pride and shame, the hardest of all bonds to break
when imprisoning a human soul.

The poor mother stood at bay--at cruel bay. She had used the
mightiest weapon upon which she could lay her hand, and it had
seemed to shiver in the conflict. But love's armoury is not easily
depleted, and love's spirit is quick to return to the charge.
There was still left to her the warmth of a bosom in which long
years before Amanda had gently stirred, and from which she had
drawn her first currents of life; and once more the mother clasped
her girl, and pressed her lips on the sin-stained face.

'Durnd kiss me, mother,' cried the affrighted girl, stepping back;
'durnd kiss me. Thaa munnot dirty thy lips wi' touchin' mine. If
thaa knew all, thaa'd spurn me more like.'

''Manda,' replied the woman, in the desperation of her love, 'I'll
kiss thee if thaa kills me for't. I connot help it; thaa'rt mine.'

'I wor once, I wor once, but nod now.'