CHAPTER IV. "Patience and sorrow strove Which should express her goodliest."-SHAKSPEARE. "Je la plains, je la blame, et je suis son appui."-VOLTAIRE. } AND now Alice felt that she was on the wide world alone, with her child—no longer to be protected, but to protect; and, after the first few days of agony, a new spirit, not indeed of hope, but of endurance, passed within her. Her solitary wanderings, with God her only guide, had tended greatly to elevate and confirm her character. She felt a strong reliance on His mysterious mercy-she felt, too, the responsibility of a mother. Thrown for so many months upon her own resources, even for the bread of life, her intellect was unconsciously sharpened, and a habit of patient fortitude had strengthened a nature originally clinging and femininely soft. She resolved to pass into some other county, for she could neither bear the thoughts that haunted the neighbourhood around, nor think, without a loathing horror, of the possibility of her father's return. Accordingly, one day, she renewed her wanderings—and after a week's travel, arrived at a small village. Charity is so common in England, it so spontaneously springs up everywhere, like the good seed by the road-side, that she had rarely wanted the bare necessaries of existence. And her humble manner, and sweet, welltuned voice, so free from the professional whine of mendicancy, had usually its charm for the sternest. So she generally obtained enough to buy bread and a night's lodging, and if sometimes she failed-she could bear hunger, and was not afraid of creeping into some shed, or, when by the sea-shore, even into some sheltering cavern. Her child throve too-for God tempers the wind to the shorn iamb! But now, so far as physical privation went, the worst was over. It so happened that as Alice was drawing herself wearily along to the entrance of the village which was to bound her day's journey, she was met by a lady past middle age, in whose countenance compassion was so visible, that Alice would not beg, for she had a strange delicacy or pride, or whatever it may be called, and rather begged of the stern than of those who looked kindly at her she did not like to lower herself in the eyes of the last. The lady stopped. "My poor girl, where are you going?" "Where God pleases, madam," said Alice. Humph! and is that your own child?-you are almost a child yourself!" "It is mine, madam," said Alice, gazing fondly at the infant;"it is all I have." The lady's voice faltered. asked. "Are you married?" she "Married!-Oh no, madam!" replied Alice, innocently, yet without blushing, for she never knew that she had done wrong in loving Maltravers. The lady drew gently back, but not in horror-no, in still deeper compassion; for that lady had true virtue, and she knew that the faults of her sex are sufficiently punished to enable us to pity them without a sin. "I am sorry for it," she said, however, with greater gravity. "Are you travelling to seek the father?" 66 Ah, madam! I shall never see him again." And Alice wept "What! he has abandoned you-so young, so beautiful!" added the lady to herself. "Abandoned me!--no madam; but it is a long tale. Good evening-I thank you kindly for your pity." The lady's eyes ran over. "Stay," said she, "tell me frankly where you are going, and what is your object." "Alas! madam, I am going anywhere, for I have no home; but I wish to live and work for my living, in order that my child may not want for anything. I wish I could maintain myself he used to say I could." M "He!-your language and manner are not those of a peasant. What can you do? What do you know?" "Music, and work, and-and "Music!-this is strange! What were your parents ?" Alice shuddered, and hid her face with her hands. The lady's interest was now fairly warmed in her behalf. "She has sinned," said she to herself; "but at that age, how can one be harsh?-She must not be thrown upon the world to make sin a habit. Follow me," she said, after a little pause; "and think you have found a friend." The lady then turned from the highroad down a green lane which led to a park lodge. This lodge she entered; and, after a short conversation with the inmate, beckoned to Alice to join her. Janet," said Alice's new protector to a comely and pleasant-eyed woman, "this is the young person-you will shew her and the infant every attention. I shall send down proper clothing for her to-morrow, and I shall then have thought what will be best for her future welfare." With that, the lady smiled benignly upon Alice, whose heart was too full to speak; and the door of the cottage closed upon her, and Alice thought the day had grown darker. CHAPTER V. "Believe me, she has won me much to pity her "Sober he was, and grave from early youth, And look serene th' unruffled mind express'd. Yet might observers in his sparkling eye ; The friendly thought it keen, the treacherous deem'd it sly; His actions all were like his speech correct Chaste, sober, solemn, and devout they named Him who was thus, and not of this ashamed."-CRABBE. "I'll on and sound this secret."-BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. She MRS. LESLIE, the lady introduced to the reader in the last chapter, was a woman of the firmest intellect combined (no unusual combination) with the softest heart. learned Alice's history with admiration and pity. The natural innocence and honesty of the young mother spoke so eloquently in her words and looks, that Mr. Leslie, on hearing her tale, found much less to forgive than she had anticipated. Still she deemed it necessary to enlighten Alice as to the criminality of the connexion she had formed. But here Alice was singularly dull-she listened in meek patience to Mrs. Leslie's lecture; but it evidently made but slight impression on her. She had not yet seen enough of the Social state, to correct the first impressions of the Natural; and all she could say in answer to Mrs. Leslie was,"It may be all very true, madam, but I have been so much better since I knew him!" But though Alice took humbly any censure upon herself, she would not hear a syllable insinuated against Maltravers. When, in a very natural indignation, Mrs. Leslie denounced him as a destroyer of innocence - for Mrs. Leslie could not learn all that extenuated his offence -Alice started up with flashing eyes and heaving heart, and would have hurried from the only shelter she had in the wide world she would sooner have died she would sooner even have seen her child die, than done that idol of her soul, who, in her eyes, stood alone on some pinnacle between earth and heaven, the wrong of hearing him reviled. With difficulty Mrs. Leslie could restrain, with still more difficulty could she pacify and soothe, her; and, for the girl's petulance, which others might have deemed insolent or ungrateful, the woman heart of Mrs. Leslie loved her all the better. The more she saw of Alice, and the more she comprehended her story and her character, the more was she lost in wonder at the romance of which this beautiful child had been the heroine, and the more perplexed she was as to Alice's future prospects. At length, however, when she became acquainted with Alice's musical acquirements, which were, indeed, of no common order, a light broke in upon her. Here was the source of her future independence. Maltravers, it will be remembered, was a musician of consummate science as well as taste, and Alice's natural talent for the art had advanced her, in the space of months, to a degree of perfection, which it cost others which it had cost even the quick Maltravers-years to obtain. But we learn so rapidly when our teachers are those we love! and it may be observed that the less our knowledge, the less, perhaps, our genius in other things, the more facile are our attainments in music, which is a very jealous mistress of the mind. Mrs. Leslie resolved to have her perfected in this art, and so enable her to become a teacher to others. In the town of C***** about thirty miles from Mrs. Leslie's house, though in the same county, there was no inconsiderable circle of wealthy and intelligent persons; for it was a cathedral town, and the resident clergy drew around them a kind of provincial aristocracy. Here, as in |