"O, I must go," she repeated; "bring me the children till I see them
once--Frank first."

The mother accordingly brought them to her, one by one, when she stooped
down and kissed them in turn, not without bitter tears, whilst they,
poor things, were all in an uproar of sorrow. She then approached her
mother, threw herself in her arms, and again wept wildly for a time, as
did that afflicted mother along with her.

"Mother, farewell," said she at length--"farewell; think of me when I am
far away--think of your unfortunate Nannie, and let every one that hears
of my misfortune think of all the misery and all the crime that may come
from one false and unguarded step."

"O, Nannie darling," replied her mother, "don't desert us now; sure you
wouldn't desert your mother now, Nannie?"

"If my life could make you easy or happy, mother, I could give it for
your sake, worthless now and unhappy as it is; but I am going to a far
country, where my shame and the misfortunes I have caused will never
be known. I must go, for if I lived here, my disgrace would always be
before you and myself; then I would soon die, and I am not yet fit for
death."

With these words the unhappy girl passed out of the house, and was
never after that night seen or heard of, but once, in that part of the
country.

In the meantime that most pitiable mother, whose afflicted heart could
only alternate from one piercing sorrow to another, sat down once more,