"When I came to, I went once more to my niece's bed-chamber. The door
was now open; and there was a bit of paper on the looking-glass
directed to my brother Joshua. She was gone from the honest house that
her sin had defiled--gone from it for ever. She had written only a few
scrawled wild lines to her father, but in them there was full
acknowledgment of her crime and a confession that it was the villain
Carr who had caused her to commit it. She said she was gone to take her
shame from our doors. She entreated that no attempt might be made to
trace her, for she would die rather than return to disgrace her family,
and her father in his old age. After this came some lines, which seemed
to have been added, on second thoughts, to what went before. I do not
remember the exact words; but the sense referred, shamelessly enough as
I thought, to the child that was afterwards born, and to her
resolution, if it came into the world alive, to suffer all things for
its sake.
"It was at first some relief to know that she was gone. The dreadful
exposure and degradation that threatened us, seemed to be delayed at
least by her absence. On questioning Ellen Gough, I found that the
other two young women who worked under me, and who were most
providentially absent on a Christmas visit to their friends, were not
acquainted with my niece's infamous secret.
Pages:
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445