fe of disgrace and infamy. And so little Josey was provided
with a nurse, and Flora with a servant.

CHAPTER XII.

THE LAST HOURS AT HOME.

To bid farewell to her mother and sisters, and the dear home of her
childhood, Flora regarded as her greatest trial. As each succeeding day
brought nearer the hour of separation, the prospect became more
intensely painful, and fraught with a thousand melancholy anticipations,
which haunted her even in sleep; and she often awoke sick and faint at
heart with the tears she had shed in a dream.

"Oh that this dreadful parting were over!" she said to her friend Mary
Parnell. "I can contemplate, with fortitude, the trials of the future;
but there is something so dreary, so utterly hopeless, in this breaking
up of kindred ties and home associations, that it paralyses exertion."

Mrs. W----, Flora's mother, was in the decline of life, and it was more
than probable that the separation would be for ever. This Flora felt
very grievously;--she loved her mother tenderly, and she could not bear
to leave her. Mrs. W---- was greatly attached to her little grandchild;
and, to mention the departure of the child, brought on a paroxysm of
grief.

"Let Josey stay with me, Flora," said she, as she covered its dimpled
hands with kisses. "Let me not lose you both in one day."

"What! part with my child--my only child! Dearest mother, it is
impossible to grant your request. Whatever our future fortunes may be,
she must share them with us. I could not bear up against the trials
which await me with a divided heart."

"Consider the advantage it would be to the child."

"In the loss of both her parents?"

"In her exemption from hardship, and the education she would receive."

"I grant all that; yet Nature points out, that the interests of a child
cannot safely be divided from those of its parents."

"You argue selfishly, Flora. You well know the child would be much
better off with me."

"I speak from my heart--the heart of a mother, which cannot, without it
belongs to a monster, plead against the welfare of its child. I know how
dearly you love her--how painful it is for you to give her up; and that
she would possess with you those comforts which, for her sake, we are
about to resign. But, if we leave her behind, we part with her ever. She
is too young to remember us; and, without knowing us, how could she love
us?"

"She would be taught to love you."

"Her love would be of a very ind