cut out my dress, and gave me the skirt to make, while she
sat down to make the body and sleeves. I had been used to do a great
deal of sewing, and was not slow at my needle; but I think I never in my
life had worked so fast as I did that evening; and, as for Mrs.
Sharpley, she worked so quick that her hand seemed absolutely to fly to
and from the work. She said very little to me, except occasionally a few
words of commendation, such as:

'That is a good girl! I see you will do very well. If you are diligent
you shall have no cause to repent having come with us.'

Thus encouraged, I worked with unabated diligence till about ten
o'clock, when Mr. Sharpley returned, and soon after our supper,
consisting of mutton-chops and potatoes, was brought up. After supper
Mrs. Sharpley and I returned to our work, and Mr. Sharpley read aloud
from a newspaper. Thus passed the time, till a few minutes after twelve,
when my dress was finished, excepting a little trimming of ribbon, which
Mrs. Sharpley said might be put on another night. It was tried on,
fitted me extremely well, and Mr. Sharpley said that if I was properly
dressed I might pass, not only for an Earl's daughter, but a Duke's
daughter.

'But, Lady Anne,' said he very seriously, 'I would advise you to put all
these fine thoughts out of your head, for, though I will not call your
mother an impostor, as the people of E---- did, yet I must say that, if
she had been an Earl's lady, she would hardly have been travelling in a
post-chaise without an attendant. It seems to me that, whatever your
father was, he had left your mother, and that she was returning to her
own friends to live with them, when she was taken ill at E----and died.
If this is the case, which appears to me most likely, your father, if he
was to see you, would not own you, nor give himself the least trouble
about you; so I wish you to put all high thoughts out of your head, give
your mind entirely to our business, and we will reward you according to
your diligence.'

These words brought tears into my eyes, for, though in my own mind I
feared I should never find my father, yet to hear another person say
that I should not seemed to make it so certain that my heart appeared to
die at the thought; and then, again, to hear it said that my father had
deserted us--that if he was to see me he would not own me--oh! could
that be possible? Yet how was it that I was really left a wanderer in
the wide world? That I knew