"One night, as I was returning home from the village, at an unusually late hour, a little girl came running out from a wretched hovel, and begged me to enter with her, for her aunty, as she called her, was dying. I went in, and found an old woman lying on a heap of rags and straw, whose end was evidently at hand. I did what I could for her; but I saw she was sinking fast. Her whole care seemed to be for her little girl, who crouched at the foot of the bed, weeping bitterly. In her anxiety for her, she seemed to forget her own sufferings.
"'What will she do when I am gone? Who will protect her and care for her in this selfish world?
"Is she an orphan?" I asked.
"'That I do not know. The child is a foundling, and no relation to me; but I love her as though she were my own child. Oh! what will become of her when I am gone?
"'And have you no clue to her birth?
"'None. One Christmas eve, about twelve years ago, my husband was caught in a storm coming from A——. As he was hurrying along by the shore road, he saw a sleigh in advance of him, and hastened on in hopes to overtake it. In his hurry his foot struck against something on the ground, and he stumbled and fell. As he arose, he turned to examine it; and judge of his surprise at finding it to be a young infant, wrapped in a long shawl, and sweetly sleeping. In his astonishment he stood rooted to the ground, unable to move, and the sleigh passed on, and was soon out of sight. It was evident to him that the inmates of the sleigh had either left it there to perish, or it had accidentally fallen out. In either case, the only thing he could do was to take it home, which he did; and handed it to me, half frozen, the next morning. Our own little girl was dead; and this child seemed so like a god-send to fill her place, that I received it with joy, and resolved to adopt it, if its parents never claimed it. For months we lived in the constant dread that it would be taken from us; but years passed on, and no inquiry was ever made concerning it. We named her Celeste; for there was something truly celestial in her sweet, angel-like face, and loving nature; and never did parents love any only child as we did her.
"'We were in very comfortable circumstances then; but when Celeste was about eight years old, my husband died; and after that everything seemed against us. We got poorer and poorer; and I was forced to take in sewing, to keep us from starving. For nearly four years I worked at this, stitching away from daylight till dark; and then scarcely able to keep soul and body together. Celeste assisted me nobly; but at length my health began to fail, and I resolved to leave the city. My husband's friends had formerly resided here, and I was in hopes of finding them; but when I came, I learned that they were all gone. Last night I was taken dangerously ill; and now I feel that I am dying; and my poor Celeste will be left utterly friendless and alone. She is beautiful, as you see; and what her fate may be, should she live to grow up, I dare not think of. My poor, poor Celeste!
"The deep affliction of the dying woman, and the heartfelt grief of the child, touched me deeply. I resolved that the poor orphan should not be left to struggle alone through the world. I was not rich, but still I was able to provide for her. In a few brief words I told her my resolution; and never shall I forget the fervent gratitude that beamed from the dying eyes, as she listened.
"'May God forever bless you!' she exclaimed, 'and may the Father of the fatherless reward you for this!
"That night she died; and next day she was buried at the expense of the parish. I took you home; and since then you have been my sole earthly joy, Celeste; and now that I am dying, I leave you, as a legacy, your history. Perhaps some day you may yet discover your parents, if they live."