short remnant of my days." "Be not uneasy, my friend Albert, no ghosts can hurt me; 'tis the living only I fear, not the dead; assure yourself I shall return in perfect safety."
Saying this she went up stairs, leaving Bertha and Albert under great consternation. "Well, the Lord love her, (said the former) she must be a pure good creature to have so much courage—I hope no harm will come on't." "I hope so too, (cried Albert, wiping his eyes.) She is the best sweetest tempered young lady that ever lived;—ah! I little thought to have seen such a day as this for her."
Whilst these two worthy creatures were expatiating upon her praise, Matilda pursued her way to the Lady of the Castle, who was expecting her with impatience, and warmly embraced her upon her entrance. "How mortifying the reflection, (said the lady, leading her visitant to a chair) that the unexpected happiness I enjoy must be purchased so dearly as by your peace of mind; what delight should I feel in your society, if distress and misfortune had not driven you here!" "Believe me, madam, (answered Matilda) your presence and conversation has greatly alleviated those sorrows which oppress my heart; and if my company should be productive of pleasure to you, I shall feel much less regret for the causes which compelled me to seek this castle as an asylum for an unhappy orphan, though but a temporary one only." "Ah! my dear young lady, (replied the other) you are but young in the school of affliction; you can look forward with hope, you can feel only for yourself, and, God forbid, you should ever know the sorrows of a wife and mother, who knows not but that she is childless and cut off for ever from those endearing ties." "O, madam, (cried Matilda, interrupting her) forgive me that I have revived such terrible images to your mind; let not my curiosity occasion such painful ideas, at least we will enjoy the present hour with mutual satisfaction, and defer your painful recital
