without importuning her by idle attempts to console her, left the room.

Plunged in the deepest melancholy, she would not admit Darnford's
visits; and such is the force of early associations even on strong
minds, that, for a while, she indulged the superstitious notion that she
was justly punished by the death of her child, for having for an instant
ceased to regret her loss. Two or three letters from Darnford, full
of soothing, manly tenderness, only added poignancy to these accusing
emotions; yet the passionate style in which he expressed, what he termed
the first and fondest wish of his heart, "that his affection might make
her some amends for the cruelty and injustice she had endured," inspired
a sentiment of gratitude to heaven; and her eyes filled with delicious
tears, when, at the conclusion of his letter, wishing to supply the
place of her unworthy relations, whose want of principle he execrated,
he assured her, calling her his dearest girl, "that it should henceforth
be the business of his life to make her happy."

He begged, in a note sent the following morning, to be permitted to
see her, when his presence would be no intrusion on her grief, and so
earnestly intreated to be allowed, according to promise, to beguile the
tedious moments of absence, by dwelling on the events of her past life,
that she sent him the memoirs which had been written for her daughter,
promising Jemima the perusal as soon as he returned them.





CHAPTER 7