ing to her and would never realize the touching lines of
the sublime poet

Deserted in his utmost need
By those his former bounty fed.

As to higher wages and a situation offering superior advantages such as
might prove attractive to other minds it has none to me. My turn is
for fidelity in obscurity and dear and honoured lady I am a poor
unprotected girl which has read in many volumes of the dangers of going
forth into the snares of a wealthy and powerful family and begs you not
to deprive her of the shelter of the peaceful roof which has been her
haven and has been the seen of the joys and sorrows of her career.
Dear lady pardon the liberty that I have taken but it would brake my
heart to leave you and master and the dear children espeshilly in the
present winter of adversity which I have hands to help in to the best
of my poor abilities. Dear and honoured lady I have often been idle
but I will be so no more I love the dear little ladies with all my
heart and I can cook and act in any capacity and wages is no object I
will not take none nor beer neither--and the parlour tea-leaves will be
sufficient. Dear and honoured master and mistress forgive the liberty
a poor girl has taken and lend a favourable ear to my request for if
you persist in parting with me I know I shall not survive it.

'Your humble and faithful Servant,
'CHARLOTTE ARNOLD.'

Isabel received this letter while she was at breakfast with Lord
Ormersfield and Louis, and it was, of course, impossible to keep it to
herself. 'Talking of no wages!' said the Earl. 'Send her off at once.'

'You will despise me,' said Isabel, with tears in her eyes; 'but there
is something very touching in it, in spite of the affectation. I
believe she really means it.'

'Affectation is only matter of taste,' said Louis. 'Half the
simplicity of our day is only fashion; and Charlotte's letter, with a
few stops, and signed Chloe, would have figured handsomely in Mrs.
Radcliffe's time.'

'It does not depend on me,' said Isabel; 'James could not bear her
going before, and I am sure he will not now.'

'I think he ought not,' said Louis. 'Poor girl! I do believe the
snares of wealthy families and fidelity in obscurity, really mean with
her the pomps and vanities versus duty and affection.'

'I am sure I would not drive her back to them,' said Isabel; 'but I am
only afraid the work will be