To please my pupils, I endeavored to appear cheerful; but truly the
heart knoweth its own bitterness. One thought, however, afforded me some
consolation, and that was, that I was obeying my mother's dying
injunction, by striving to do my duty in the position in which I was
placed. As days and months passed away, I, in some measure, regained my
usual cheerfulness, although I was nowise inclined to forget my mother.

A year had now passed since I saw her laid in the grave. I often visited
her resting-place, and there I renewed my resolve to follow her
precepts; and many a time, kneeling by her grave did I implore wisdom
from on high to enable me to follow the counsels I had so often received
from those lips, now sealed in silence. It seemed to me, at such times,
that I almost held communion with the spirit of my mother.

I experienced much kindness from every member of Mr. Leighton's family.
I spent my leisure time mostly in my room. They did not, of course,
invite me to join parties, but they would often urge me to join a few
friends in their own parlor; but I always replied that my deep mourning
must be my excuse. I had no taste for company or mirth.

One afternoon the Leightons had gone to join a picnic party some two
miles from the city. They had invited me to accompany them, but as usual
I declined. I felt sad and lonely that long afternoon, and, being left
entirely alone, I could not prevent my thoughts from recurring to the
past. I thought of all the happy, careless days of my childhood; then my
memory ran back to the night, when, at ten years of age, I stood by the
death-bed of my father. With the eye of memory, I again saw my mother,
as she stood bowed with grief at the grave of my father; and now I was
left alone to mourn for both father and mother. Memory also fondly
turned to Miss Edmonds, my first teacher. I felt that to see her again
would indeed be happiness; but I knew not where Miss Edmonds then
resided. The last time I had heard from her she contemplated going
South, as governess in a gentleman's family. Then came the memory of the
happy years I passed in Mrs. Wentworth's school. Where now were the many
friends I had then known and loved? As these thoughts passed in quick
succession through my mind, I could not refrain from weeping; and, as I
was under no restraint from the presence of others, my tears seemed
almost a luxury. I know not how long my fit of weeping might have
continued had not one of the