When Anna returned with her kind friend to Rosewood, she sought for Bella in order to tell her that she was sorry that she had hitherto given her so much trouble, and found her busily employed at needle-work, and two or three little girls of the village with her, to whom she was distributing several articles of clothing. This, for the present, prevented Anna's speaking of what she came to say, and she only asked, "what she was about?" and why these little girls were there.

They were not unknown to her, and she had formerly played with them before she left the farm; but now they saw her white frock and yellow shoes, and remembered she was taken to be Mrs. Meridith's daughter, they each made her a curtesy:

"Oh, don't curtesy to me;" said Anna, full of what had passed in the morning; "I am only a little girl like yourselves, and if it had not been for a good uncle and aunt, and Mrs. Meridith's kindness, I should have been a great deal worse off than you, for I had no father or mother to take care of me."

"Oh, Miss Anna, don't talk so," said Bella; "every body loves you, and would be glad to take care of you."

"But I would wish her not only to talk so, but to think so also," said Mrs. Meridith, who just then entered the room, and had heard Anna speaking, "if it will keep her mindful not to give more trouble than she can help; and I should be sorry she should forget, that these little girls have as much right to her kindness as she has to mine, when she has it in her power to show them any."

"I will, Mamma, I will," replied Anna, "for they are all my old playfellows, and I used to love them very much."

Mrs. Meridith then inquired into the work Bella was doing, and Anna found she was going to clothe them also, and she heard her give directions for more things to be made, and tell the children to send another family out of the village to her.

As soon as they were gone she burst into tears, and said, "Oh, Mamma, I might have been one of these little girls, and you would have been good to me as you are to them. But how much more kind to take me as your own! And why was it me? why not one of them? they are better little girls than I have been, and would never have given you so much trouble; but my dear Bella I am ashamed of it; you shall never have to mend my frocks as you have done."

"I never complained of it, my dear," returned Bella, who did not know what had passed.

"But you will have more time to assist the poor children in the village," observed Mrs. Meridith, "who are all obliged to do something towards supporting themselves already, and therefore your working for them will be more useful than for Anna."

The little girl agreed to all her Mamma said, and she sat down to dinner with her with very different ideas than the day before.

As soon as she saw William and John coming up the lawn, whom Mrs. Meridith had asked to tea, she asked her leave to go and meet them; and as they walked slowly round the garden together, she told them all about the torn frock which she had vainly endeavoured to mend. "You told me," said she to William, "that these fine clothes did not make me happier, a little while ago, and I have found it out now; but however I will never tear another if I can help it; at least I shall know what trouble it must be to Bella to mend it."

The afternoon passed rapidly away, and when she went to bed, Anna felt more grateful for the happy home provided for her, than she had ever done before. She frequently reverted to her former state, in conversation with Mrs. Meridith, and her uncle and aunt, while the latter always endeavoured to imprint on her mind the sense of her obligation to her kind benefactress, by whose name she was now universally known, though that which really belonged to her was Eastwood, for so her parents were called.

In the course of a few years Mrs. Meridith evidently grew happier, while according to her own maxim she added to the happiness of others; she suffered no one to want work who were capable of it, and she regularly supplied those who were old or ill in the village with every comfort they needed. Blankets were sent to every house, and each year her house was open for a whole week at Christmas. A plentiful meal was provided every day, but nothing superfluous; and her barrels of home-brewed ale were tapped, that all might have their allotted portion. In short, from her extensive fortune and her earnest endeavour to make these poor people happy, there was not a family in Downash who had not at least one of their children apprenticed to some useful trade, while the others worked in the fields; nor was there a child in the village who had not learned to write and read; and while Mrs. Meridith was thus careful for Downash and its inhabitants, she was not unmindful of the poor on the estate she had left in Lincolnshire, but gave orders to her agent there that they should be provided with what was necessary for them; and often sent Syphax, her confidential servant, to see that it was done.

Mr. and Mrs. Campbell continued to receive many marks of her favour, and as their family increased, she added to her liberality; nor did she forget the other brother and his family, but on his first visit to the farm after her settling at Rosewood, recognized him as one of her early friends with her usual kindness. She also sent handsome presents to his wife and children; and was always endeavouring to find out where she could be materially useful to both of them. At length the farm which the younger Mr. Campbell rented was to be sold; and unless he became the purchaser he expected to be turned out. On hearing this, Mrs. Meridith advanced the money for him, and at the same time presented a deed of gift to the elder brother, of the farm which he rented of her. This perhaps would have been carrying her generosity too far, had she not possessed so ample a fortune, with no near relation to inherit it after her death, and those she had were all in a state of affluence. She therefore gratified herself by thus obliging two worthy families, and convincing them that the kindness of their mother to her in infancy was not forgotten. All who heard of these acts of kindness, rejoiced that they were shewn to men so deserving of them, except the other farmer in the village, whose name was Ward: he could not see what the Campbells had done to merit such a recompense, nor bear that they should be the owners of their farms while he only rented his. At market, or wherever they met, his envy was apparent; and yet he could attach no blame to either of the brothers, since they were both ignorant of her intention, and would have declined her offer had she made it to them before the purchase was necessary. As it was, Edward Campbell insisted on paying her what money he had laid up against the time he expected the farm would be sold; and to satisfy his scruples Mrs. Meridith accepted it; and also the same sum from his elder brother, which she immediately, and unknown to them, placed in the funds in the names of their respective children. But yet farmer Ward was still hard to credit that they had paid any purchase money: he had for some time viewed the notice Mrs. Meridith took of the family with a jealous eye, and much had been said by his wife and daughters of the increased consequence of farmer Campbell and his family, since the lady of the manor had done so much for them.

This last event did not take place till after Anna had been ten years with her kind patroness, whom she was now accustomed to look on as more than a mother, though often the circumstance of the torn frock was reverted to by her uncle, and he reminded her that it was the humanity of Mrs. Meridith, and not from any claim she had to her kindness, which had placed her in the situation she was.

As she was now arrived at the age of fourteen, the best masters the country afforded for music, French, and drawing, attended her; "and these," said her attentive uncle, "you ought to be assiduous in learning, that you may be able to amuse Mrs. Meridith as her age increases;" but Anna's attention to these accomplishments did not prevent her from paying the same to more domestic concerns.

"It may be," said Mrs. Meridith, "you may never wish to play, or sing, after your masters have left you; but you will always have a family to attend to."

As music was what Anna was particularly desirous of improvement in, and as she had a very good voice, her kind friend did not discourage her endeavours to advance in it; "but remember," said she, "that to add to the happiness of others, you must do something more than sing to them.—A song, or a concerto on the piano will not satisfy the calls of hunger, or still the pains of sickness; and the poor in the village will not thank you for sitting whole hours at your instrument, if it leads you to neglect them; and may you recollect my dear, that one chief reason, why I adopted you for my daughter, was that you should supply my place to the poor of Downash, when I am no longer here to assist them." Anna always heard her with tears upon this subject, and faithfully promised to regard her injunctions.

At this time she often walked among the villagers and listened to their wants, or rather their account of how they had been relieved; and the praises of good Mrs. Meridith: and when the purchase of the farms were made, she met with various congratulations.

"I am sure both your uncles were deserving of it," said one of their labourers, at whose house she called to know why his daughter was not at school the week before; "they are as good masters to work for as can be found in all the country, and we be all heartily glad that the farms are their own."

"Mrs. Meridith," replied Anna, "has given us all reason to rejoice that she came to live here; what has she not done for me?"

"Ah, dear Miss," returned the man, "now you speaks of that, your poor dear mother was deserving of it."

"It is all for her sake," answered Anna, "but did you know her?"

"Ah, and your father too, Miss, if he deserved to be called so, who could leave you as he did."

Anna sighed. "I wonder where he is," said she, not expecting the old man could inform her.

"Why some do say that he went for a sailor," returned he, "but I did hear a little while ago that some one see'd a man that had seen him about a twelvemonth before."

"You don't say so," returned Anna, with eagerness, half afraid yet anxious to hear more: "Who was it, and where was he?"

"Why I don't know for the truth of it, Miss," said he, "nor whereabouts it was he see'd him, but I thinks it was somewhere beyond sea; but it was at farmer Ward's my daughter heard it, and the reason, Ma'am, she h'an't been to school this week, is, she has been there, while their girl was gone home to see her mother."

"At farmer Ward's?" replied Anna, "I thought they would have had some of their own labourer's daughters."

"And so should I, Miss, but somehow Nancy Ward has taken a great fancy to my girl, so I let her go, as 'twas but for a little while; but I hopes to get her into your aunt's, Miss, when she wants a girl, and if you would be so good as to speak for her it would be doing a great kindness; she is very handy, and knows how to do a great many things. But here she comes, and Nancy Ward with her, I declare." Anna looked out and saw them coming towards the little wicket, she therefore would not leave the house till they entered it; and as it was at farmer Ward's that something had been heard of her father, she thought she might hear more of it from Nancy, whom, though she had not seen for some months, yet as children they were often together; but she was not aware of the difference Mrs. Meridith's late kindness to her uncles had made in her behaviour, as well as in that of her father.

"How do you do, Nancy?" said she, "I hope you are well? You are much grown since I saw you."

"And so are you, Miss," replied Nancy, with a saucy air; "and all your family I think,—the farmer Campbells are quite gentlemen now, and Miss Meridith, or Miss Campbell, or Miss Eastwood, or whatever name I may call you by, is quite a fine lady."

"Not more so than I was a few years ago, when you did not account me so," answered Anna, with rather a haughty air; but it was immediately humbled when the insolent girl proceeded, "according to the old proverb, set a beggar on horseback."

"A beggar!" returned Anna.

"Yes," said Nancy, "your father was one, or is one now; and it would be a good thing for him if he could come in for some of Mrs. Meridith's bounty."

"I believe," replied Anna, with some spirit, "that if he needed and deserved it, he would not have long to wait for it; but can you tell me where he is?"

"O dear no, Miss, I have no acquaintance with him, nor do I wish it: I only think that if he knew how generous Mrs. Meridith is to all who belong to you, he would soon be here to get a little out of her."

"Fye, Nancy, fye, I am ashamed of you," said the old man; "if you can't talk better than that, you should hold your tongue; you may be ashamed of yourself; can any one help the faults of their parents?"

"It is the first time," thought Anna, "that I have suffered for the faults of mine; till now every body pitied me for having such a father."

"Oh!" returned the girl, determined now to vent her spleen as she had began, "the poor little Anna Eastwood, or Campbell as she was called, is so proud since she has become Mrs. Meridith's daughter, that she ought to be told of what she was; she was only taken out of charity at first."

"I know it," replied Anna, with a dignified air; "and I am obliged to Mrs. Meridith for giving me such an education as has not disgraced that charity. If I am proud, I am sorry for it, for I well know I have nothing to be proud of; but I hope I shall never be insensible to the kindness of Mrs. Meridith, or my uncle and aunts; and as for what that lady has done for them, it was because their mother was her first friend; they wanted not her assistance, though they know how to value her friendship and condescension in noticing me as she has done; and there are other people who rejoice at it for my mother's sake.

"That we all do, Miss," said the old man; "and as for your being proud, no one thinks you so, any more than Mrs. Meridith herself; and it is a rare thing to see ladies like her with so little, and remember former kindnesses and friends as she does. I am sure old Mrs. Campbell was a good nurse to her, and she has rewarded her family for it."

"I think so, indeed," replied the envious girl, "when she has given them both farms for it."

"You are mistaken there," said Anna, very mildly, for the honest encomiums of the poor man had calmed her anger. "My uncles had not laboured so long, nor my grandfather before them, not to be able to purchase the farms you mention; and Mrs. Meridith only gave the preference to any other buyer."

"My father could buy a farm as well as them, I fancy," replied Nancy, with a toss of the head.

"I dare say he could," returned Anna, "but you do not imagine Mrs. Meridith would have sold that in which my uncle lived, away from him, if it was in his power to purchase it, any more than she would sell your father's to another person if he wished to have it." Nancy Ward now looked half ashamed, and Anna turning from her, said something to the other girl (who had stood by in evident distress during this conversation) about her coming to school the next week, and then bidding the old man farewell, she hastened home ruminating on what she had heard, and particularly on that which concerned her father.