Jane replaced the child in the mother's lap, and said to Mrs. Winthrop, "I recollect you perfectly, Polly. You were very good to me."
"I could not help it, for you was always as pleasant as a little lamb, and as chipper as a bird; but," said she, observing the too evident traces of tears on Jane's cheeks, "I am sorry if I have touched your feelings about the money. I never mistrusted that it was you."
"Do not be uneasy on that account," replied Jane. "I am glad I have heard your story, Polly."
She had listened to the unfortunate woman's history with the keenest anguish. There is no feeling so near of kin to remorse as that which a virtuous child suffers from the knowledge of a parent's vices. The injustice of her father appeared to Jane to have either caused or aggravated every evil the poor woman had suffered. Each particular was sharper than a serpent's tooth to our unhappy orphan. She had not that convenient moral sense, quick to discern and lament the faults of others, but very dull in the perception of our own duties. It was the work of an instant with her to resolve to appropriate her newly acquired treasure to the reparation of her father's injustice; and with the hasty generosity of youth, she left the room to execute her purpose. But, when she took the pocket-book from its hiding-place, and saw again that which she had looked upon with so much joy, as the price of liberty and the means of independence, her heart misgave her; she felt
