THE happy family-party at Mr. Harewood’s was necessarily soon broken up, as Mrs. Hanson took a house at Brompton, on account of the mildness of the air, and the young friends were then separated. Their removal was facilitated by the arrival of that West-Indian lady and her little girl, whom we have already mentioned, as being stripped of nearly all her possessions, and whom Mr. and Mrs. Harewood were desirous of accommodating in their house, until some plan for her future situation should be fixed upon. They were not of that number who can receive a rich friend with pleasure, and leave a poor one to shift for themselves; on the contrary, Mrs. Weston and her little Harriet were received by them, not only with affection, but with all consideration due to her former situation.

As soon as Mrs. Hanson had arranged her household at Brompton, she hastened to invite Mr. and Mrs. Harewood and their family to spend an early day with her, and was then introduced to Mrs. Weston, whom she knew well by report, and for whose altered situation she was truly concerned, especially after she became acquainted with her, as the suavity of her manners, the quiet dignity of mind, and unaffected resignation with which she bore her misfortunes, could not fail to prepossess her in favour of so wise and good a sufferer, who was likewise so cheerful and willing to be happy.

Harriet was a little girl, about six years old at this time, a tolerably good child but certainly subject to the same errors (though in a far less degree) which had formerly distinguished Matilda; and as she wanted incessantly somebody to do something for her, and there was no longer a slave at her command, her mother was too frequently obliged to be that servant—a circumstance which rendered the young Harewoods much less fond of Harriet than they would otherwise have been, and which, at times, tried the temper of even the gentle Ellen.

Matilda’s whole mind was absorbed by this little girl, on whom she continually cast looks of the deepest interest; her mother imputed the serious air she wore to a regret very natural at her age, on revisiting the house where she had been so happy, and she felt some fears lest it should continue to haunt her mind: she had likewise many forebodings as to the future education of her daughter, being sensible that she had enjoyed advantages in Mr. Harewood’s house of no common character; and she very candidly related all that was passing in her mind to that kind lady, whose maternal love for her child rendered her the most proper judge for the future, as she had proved herself the truest friend for the past.

Mrs. Harewood very strenuously recommended her to procure a good governess for her daughter, as it was hardly to be expected that she could bring herself to part with her only child, otherwise a school might have been more advantageous to a girl of such an active and social disposition; but, above all, she pressed Mrs. Hanson to endeavour to preserve in her that spirit of humility which never fails to produce obedience, subdue passion, and open the mind for the reception and nurture of every virtue.

On the arrival of Mrs. Hanson, Mrs. Harewood had left the real improvements of Matilda to be discovered by circumstances; and as the mother and daughter were seldom apart, she had not spoken of the kind and charitable actions which Matilda had performed, fearful of injuring by praise those blossoms which were now only beginning to expand; but she now dilated on them with pleasure, both to the happy mother and Mrs. Weston; and such was the effect of this discourse on the former, that tears of pleasure and gratitude to Heaven ran down her cheek. Matilda, although still engaged with the child, catching a view of her mother under this emotion, could not forbear running up to her, and tenderly inquired what was the matter.

“Nothing at all, my love, at least nothing painful; we have been speaking of you—I am anxious to engage you a governess.”

“Well, mamma, and will Mrs. Weston be so good as to undertake me?”

The ladies all started, but by no means with any symptom of dismay, although Mrs. Hanson said, with some confusion, to Mrs. Weston—“My little girl takes a great liberty, ma’am, but you must pardon her premature request; she fancies you are an old friend, I believe, because you are her countrywoman.”

“I wish sincerely I had any other claim to being considered her friend, madam, as in that case——”

Mrs. Weston suddenly checked herself, her colour rose, and the tears stood in her eyes.

“Suffer me, my dear friend, to interpret your silence for Mrs. Hanson;—in that case you would not object to undertaking the charge which Matilda has very innocently, though very abruptly, been willing to assign to you?”

“If you are a faithful interpreter, I will call you a most agreeable one,” said Mrs. Hanson, “for Mrs. Weston would be an equal acquisition to both me and my daughter.”

Mrs. Weston wiped her eyes—“Believe me, dear ladies,” said she, “I am grateful for your good opinion, and truly desirous of profiting by your kind offer; but you are both mothers, and will, I am certain, consider my situation as such. I am but newly arrived; it will take some time to wean my poor child from her habits; and to send one so very young to school, is a painful consideration; in a few months I shall be happy indeed to avail myself of your goodness, and enter with pleasure on so promising a task.”

Mrs. Hanson was just going to express her entire approbation of this proposal, when Matilda, with a modest, but earnest air, entreated permission to speak, which was immediately granted.

“Do not think me vain nor presuming, dear Mrs. Weston, if I say, that, whilst you are my governess, I will, with my mamma’s permission, become little Harriet’s governess; I am quite sure it will do us both a great deal of good, for she will every hour remind me how much more naughty and tiresome and provoking I used to be when I first came over, and teach me to endure with patience, and remove with gentleness and firmness, the errors which, in so young and engaging a child, claim my compassion rather than blame. I shall love her very dearly, I am certain, because I see she is of a loving temper, notwithstanding her faults; and I am certain, if she feels as I do, she will love me for curing her of them; then I will teach her all I know, and as I shall improve every day, you know I shall improve her also! Dear mamma, pray let me try! I do not know any way in which a girl like me can show gratitude to God so effectually, as in endeavouring to make my fellow-creature as happy as myself, and especially my own little countrywoman.”

The tenderness and earnestness with which this request was urged, as well as the excellent motive, ensured its success; and in a few days the mother and daughter removed together to Brompton, and a regular system of education was entered upon, which was indeed attended with the most happy effects, although it is probable that Matilda found her new office abound with trials, of which she could form no idea until experience taught her. It is however certain, that she received as much benefit as she communicated, and that she learned the lessons of virtue whilst imparting them to her little pupil, who proved a very tractable and intelligent child, after she had become weaned from those habits which were in a great measure inseparable from her late situation in life. It is probable that but for this stimulus to her exertions, Matilda would have neglected her education, and sunk into indolent habits, for want of those excitements which she had found in the society of Ellen and her brothers; whereas now she endeavoured, at every meeting with this dear family, to exhibit some improvement or attainment in her pupil, and these were inevitably connected with her own.

But notwithstanding the advantages Matilda possessed, and her earnest desire to profit by them, and even the actual improvement she evinced, our young readers must not suppose either that she was perfect, or that she had attained that standard of excellence of which she was capable. Many a moment of petulance occurred with her provoking little pupil, and airs of arrogance were apt to swell her bosom, upon those occasions which called out the superiority of her fortune, or the exhibition of those talents which could not fail to be remarked in her situation of life. But on these occasions it was never difficult for Mrs. Weston or her good mamma to recall her to a sense of the folly and guilt of indulging such a temper; for her religious principles were deeply ingrafted, and her sensibility genuine and active; so that the moment her mind perceived that she was wounding a fellow-creature, and thereby offending God, her heart revolted from her own conduct, and she lost not a moment in retracting the assertions of anger, and rendering, as far as she was able, every atonement for her error.