e children entrusted to her care had loved
her very sincerely; he was now a wealthy merchant in the town. When Mr.
Rollins heard of her distress, he hastened to comfort and console her.
He gave her part of the red-brick cottage rent free for the rest of her
life; sent her two youngest daughters to school, and settled a small
annuity upon her, which, though inadequate to the wants of one so
perfectly dependent, greatly ameliorated the woes of her condition.
Dorothy had resided several years in the cottage, before the Masons came
to live under the same roof. They soon showed what manner of people they
were, and annoyed the poor widow with their rude and riotous mode of
life. But complaints were useless. Mr. Rollins was travelling with his
bride on the Continent; and his steward, who had accepted the Masons
for tenants, laughed at Dorothy's objections to their character and
occupation, bluntly telling her, "that beggars could not be choosers;
that she might be thankful that she had a comfortable warm roof over her
head, without having to work hard for it like her neighbours." She
acknowledged the truth of the remark, and endeavoured to submit to her
fate with patience and resignation.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SISTERS.

Mrs. Grimshawe's eldest daughter, Mary, the poor hunchback before
alluded to, was a great comfort to her afflicted parent. She seldom left
her bed-side, and was ever at hand to administer to her wants. Mary was
a neat and rapid plain sewer; and she contributed greatly to her
mother's support by the dexterity with which she plied her needle. Her
deformity, which was rendered doubly conspicuous by her diminutive
stature, was not the only disadvantage under which Mary Grimshawe
laboured. She was afflicted with such an impediment in her speech, that
it was only the members of her own family who could at all understand
the meaning of the uncouth sounds in which she tried to communicate her
ideas. So sensible was she of this terrible defect, and the ridicule it
drew upon her from thoughtless and unfeeling people, that she seldom
spoke to strangers, and was considered by many as both deaf and dumb.

Poor Mary! she was one of the meekest of God's creatures,--a most holy
martyr to patience and filial love. What a warm heart--what depths of
tenderness and affection dwelt in the cramped confines of that little
misshapen body! Virtue in her was like a bright star seen steadily
shining through the heavy clouds of