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affection is。 My disposition is very affectionate； and perhaps I
might still feel such a wound； if such a wound could be received
more than once； with the quickness of that birthday。
Dinner was over； and my godmother and I were sitting at the
table before the fire。 The clock ticked； the fire clicked； not another
sound had been heard in the room； or in the house； for I don’t
know how long。 I happened to look timidly up from my stitching；
across the table； at my godmother； and I saw in her face； looking
gloomily at me； “It would have been far better； little Esther； that
you had had no birthday； that you had never been born！”
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I broke out crying and sobbing； and I said； “O； dear godmother；
tell me； pray do tell me； did mama die on my birthday？”
“No；” she returned。 “Ask me no more； child！”
“O； do pray tell me something of her。 Do now； at last； dear
godmother； if you please！ What did I do to her？ How did I lose
her？ Why am I so different from other children； and why is it my
fault； dear godmother？ No； no； no； don’t go away。 O； speak to me！”
I was in a kind of fright beyond my grief； and I caught hold of
her dress； and was kneeling to her。 She had been saying all the
while； “Let me go！” But now she stood still。
Her darkened face had such power over me； that it stopped me
in the midst of my vehemence。 I put up my trembling little hand to
clasp hers； or to beg her pardon with what earnestness I might；
but withdrew it as she looked at me； and laid it on my fluttering
heart。 She raised me； sat in her chair； and standing me before her；
said； slowly； in a cold； low voice—I see her knitted brow； and
pointed finger：
“Your mother； Esther； is your disgrace； and you were hers。 The
time will come—and soon enough—when you will understand this
better； and will feel it too； as no one save a woman can。 I have
forgiven her” but her face did not relent “the wrong she did to me；
and I say no more of it； though it was greater than you will ever
know—than any one will ever know； but I； the sufferer。 For
yourself； unfortunate girl； orphaned and degraded from the first of
these evil anniversaries； pray daily that the sins of others be not
visited upon your head； according to what is written。 Forget your
mother； and leave all other people to forget her who will do her
unhappy child that greatest kindness。 Now； go！”
She checked me； however； as I was about to depart from her—
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so frozen as I was！—and added this：
“Submission； self…denial； diligent work； are the preparations for
a life begun with such a shadow on it。 You are different from other
children； Esther； because you were not born； like them； in
common sinfulness and wrath。 You are set apart。”
I went up to my room； and crept to bed； and laid my doll’s
cheek against mine wet with tears； and holding that solitary friend
upon my bosom； cried myself to sleep。 Imperfect as my
understanding of my sorrow was； I knew that I had brought no joy；
at any time； to anybody’s heart； and that I was to no one upon
earth what Dolly was to me。
Dear； dear； to think how much time we passed alone together
afterwards； and how often I repeated to the doll the story of my
birthday； and confided to her that I would try； as hard as ever I
could； to repair the fault I had been born with （of which I
confessedly felt guilty and yet innocent）； and would strive as I
grew up to be industrious； contented and kind…hearted； and to do
some good to some one； and win some love to myself if I could。 I
hope it is not self…indulgent to shed these tears as I think of it。 I am
very thankful； I am cheerful； but I cannot quite help their coming
to my eyes。
There！ I have wiped them away now； and can go on again
properly。
I felt the distance between my godmother and myself so much
more after the birthday； and felt so sensible of filling a place in her
house which ought to have been empty； that I found her more
difficult of approach； though I was fervently grateful to her in my
heart； than ever。 I felt in the same way towards my school
companions； I felt in the same way towards Mrs Rachael； who was
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a widow； and O； towards her daughter； of whom she was proud；
who came to see her once a fortnight！ I was very retired and quiet；
and tried to be very diligent。
One sunny afternoon； when I had come home from school with
my books and portfolio； watching my long shadow at my side； and
as I was gliding upstairs to my room as usual； my godmother
looked out of the parlour door； and called me back。 Sitting with
her； I found—which was very unusual indeed—a stranger。 A
portly important…looking gentleman； dressed all in black； with a
white cravat； large gold watch seals； a pair of gold eyeglasses； and
a large seal…ring upon his little finger。
“This；” said my godmother in an under tone； “is the child。”
Then she said； in her naturally stern way of speaking； “This is
Esther； sir。”
The gentleman put up his eyeglasses to look at me； and said；
“Come here； my dear！” He shook hands with me； and asked me to
take off my bonnet—looking at me all the while。 When I had
complied； he said； “Ah！” and afterwards “Yes！” And then； taking
off his eyeglasses； and folding them in a red case； and leaning back
in his armchair； turning the case about in his two hands he gave
my godmother a nod。 Upon that； my godmother said； “You may go
upstairs； Esther！” and I made him my curtsey and left him。
It must have been two years afterwards； and I was almost
fourteen； when one dreadful night my godmother and I sat at the
fireside。 I was reading aloud； and she was listening。 I had come
down at nine o’clock； as I always did； to read the Bible to her； and
was reading； from St。 John； how our Saviour stooped down；
writing with his finger in the dust； when they brought the sinful
woman to him。
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“‘So； when they continued asking him； he lifted up himself and
said unto them； He that is without sin among you； let him first cast
a stone at her！’”
I was stopped by my godmother’s rising； putting her hand to
her head； and crying out； in an awful voice； from quite