'Then you did not get through it, I suppose?'
'Through it, bless your heart! No—not three pages! So my good man says to Edith, says he, "You gave us this book, I think, child, to teach us to think?" "Yes, sir," says she. "And it has taught us to think," says he:—"it has taught us to think that it is very dull and disagreeable." So my daughter laughed, and said her father was witty; but, poor soul! he did not mean it.
'Well, then: as, to amuse us, we liked to look at the stars sometimes, she told us we had better learn their names, and study astronomy; and so we began that: but that was just as bad as Mr Locke; and we knew no more of the stars and planets, than the man in the moon. Yet that's not right to say, neither; for, as he is so much nearer the stars, he must know more about them than any one whomsoever. So at last my daughter found out that learning was not our taste; so she left us to please ourselves, and play cribbage and draughts in an evening as usual.'
Here the old lady paused, and Adeline said affectionately, 'Dear grandmother, I doubt you exert yourself too much: so much talking can't be good for you.'
'O! yes, child!' replied Mrs. Woodville: 'it is no trouble at all to me, I assure you, but quite natural and pleasant like: besides, you know I shall not be able to talk much longer, so let me make the most of my time now.'
This speech brought tears into the eyes of Adeline; and seeing her mother re-enter the room, she withdrew to conceal the emotion which she felt, lest the cheerful loquacity of the invalid, which she was fond of indulging, should be checked by seeing her tears. But it had already received a check from the presence of Mrs Mowbray, of whose superior abilities Mrs Woodville was so much in awe, that, concluding her daughter could not bear to hear her nonsense, the old lady smiled kindly on her when with a look of tender anxiety she hastened to her bedside, and then, holding her hand, composed herself to sleep.
In a few days more, she breathed her last on the supporting arm of Adeline; and lamented in her dying moments, that she had nothing valuable in money to leave, in order to show Adeline how sensible she was of her affectionate attentions: 'but you are an only child,' she added, 'and all your mother has will be yours.'
'No doubt,' observed Mrs Mowbray eagerly; and her mother died contented.