Jemima had not power to resist this persuasive torrent; and, owning that
the house in which she was confined, was situated on the banks of the
Thames, only a few miles from London, and not on the sea-coast, as
Darnford had supposed, she promised to invent some excuse for her
absence, and go herself to trace the situation, and enquire concerning
the health, of this abandoned daughter. Her manner implied an intention
to do something more, but she seemed unwilling to impart her design; and
Maria, glad to have obtained the main point, thought it best to leave
her to the workings of her own mind; convinced that she had the power of
interesting her still more in favour of herself and child, by a simple
recital of facts.

In the evening, Jemima informed the impatient mother, that on the morrow
she should hasten to town before the family hour of rising, and received
all the information necessary, as a clue to her search. The "Good
night!" Maria uttered was peculiarly solemn and affectionate. Glad
expectation sparkled in her eye; and, for the first time since her
detention, she pronounced the name of her child with pleasureable
fondness; and, with all the garrulity of a nurse, described her first
smile when she recognized her mother. Recollecting herself, a still
kinder "Adieu!" with a "God bless you!"--that seemed to include a
maternal benediction, dismissed Jemima.

The dreary solitude of the ensuing day, lengthened by impatiently
dwelling on the same idea, was intolerably wearisome. She listened
for the sound of a particular clock, which some directions of the wind
allowed her to hear distinctly. She marked the shadow gaining on
the wall; and, twilight thickening into darkness, her breath seemed
oppressed while she anxiously counted nine.--The last sound was a stroke
of despair on her heart; for she expected every moment, without seeing