island" and its fig cake. I could hear
a voice that was new to me. It was
deeper than my mother's, and its ac-
cent was different. It was the sort of
a voice that made you feel that its
owner had talked with many different
kinds of people, and had contrived to
hold her own with all of them. I knew
it belonged to Aunt Cordelia. And now
that I was not to see her, I felt my curi-
osity arising in me. I wanted to look
at her, and still more I wished to ask
her about goodness. She was rich and
good! Was one the result of the other?
And which came first? I dimly per-
ceived that if there had been more
money in our house there would have
been more help, and I would not have
been led into temptation -- baby would
not have been left too long upon my
hands. However, after a few moments
of self-pity, I rejected this thought. I
knew I really was to blame, and it oc-
curred to me that I would add to my
faults if I tried to put the blame on any-
body else.

Now that the first shock was over and
that my sleep had refreshed me, I be-
gan to see what terrible sorrow had