im, no working man or woman could subsist
upon such a wretched morsel as my dear mother took.

"I was a thin, ragged, barefooted girl, then, and sickly and weak for
want of food; but I think I felt mother's hunger more than my own: and
many and many a bitter night I lay awake, crying, and praying to God to
give me means of working for myself and aiding her. And he has, indeed,
been good to me," said pious Beatrice, "for He has given me all this!

"Well, time rolled on, and matters grew worse than ever: winter came,
and was colder to us than any other winter, for our clothes were thinner
and more torn; mother sometimes could find no work, for the fields in
which she labored were hidden under the snow; so that when we wanted
them most we had them least--warmth, work, or food.

"I knew that, do what I would, mother would never let me leave her,
because I looked to my little brothers and my old cripple of an aunt;
but still, bread was better for us than all my service; and when I left
them the six would have a slice more; so I determined to bid good-by to
nobody, but to go away, and look for work elsewhere. One Sunday, when
mother and the little ones were at church, I went in to Aunt Bridget,
and said, 'Tell mother, when she comes back, that Beatrice is gone.' I
spoke quite stoutly, as if I did not care about it.

"'Gone! gone where?' said she. 'You ain't going to leave me alone,
you nasty thing; you ain't going to the village to dance, you ragged,
barefooted slut: you're all of a piece in this house--your mother, your
brothers, and you. I know you've got meat in the kitchen, and you only
give me black bread;' and here the old lady began to scream as if her
heart would break; but we did not mind it, we were so used to it.

"'Aunt,' said I, 'I'm going, and took this very opportunity because you
WERE alone: tell mother I am too old now to eat her bread, and do no
work for it: I am going, please God, where work and bread can be found:'
and so I kissed her: she was so astonished that she could not move or
speak; and I walked away through the old room, and the little garden,
God knows whither!

"I heard the old woman screaming after me, but I did not stop nor turn
round. I don't think I could, for my heart was very full; and if I had
gone back again, I should never have had the courage to go away. So I
walked a long, long way, until night fell; and I thought of poor mother
coming home from mass, and not finding me; and litt