Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. Teacher returned, and with her the casual sense of 146 order. ‘Don’t tell me. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Perhaps it was loneliness. "But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been. on.
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