All through Joyce's baby days Sarah used to say: "Nobody knows the blessing this child is to me. When I hold her in my arms, I almost forget that I have lost my own, or look on her as having been given me for a while instead of my own little Katie, who was only a month older."
Some years later, Mr. Mirlees insisted on obtaining a situation for Sarah at The Chase, Mrs. Evans being willing to give high wages to one so trustworthy.
Sarah always protested that she was turned out of her old home. "I'd rather have served Mr. Mirlees and my darling for nothing. But they turned me out, 'for my good,' they said."
When Joyce arrived at The Chase, Sarah rushed to meet her foster-child, and whispered, as well as her tears would allow her—
"I see now what I could never understand before. I could not believe I was sent here for my good; but I believe it now, darling. I was sent before, in a little way, like Joseph was, to do good to them that sold him for a slave. And I can be of use to you, though I'm only a servant."
To Joyce, the clasp of those loving arms was indescribably comforting, and she found that Sarah was the only person on whom she could rely for open, hearty sympathy.
Her uncle wished to show it, but a mark of affection on his part was sure to call for the opposite on the side of his wife who seemed resolved that a bare shelter should be all that Joyce should have under her roof.
The orphan girl was soon weary of her position, and, writhing under the slights she had received, would have been thankful to earn her bread by any honest means rather than continue to receive what was so grudgingly bestowed. She wished to please Mrs. Evans and to gain the affection of her cousins, but every effort seemed vain. Had there been young children in the house, her time would have been occupied, but there were none. Her cousins desired no such companion as herself; and, as Mr. Evans' niece, she could not very well be entirely ignored. But there was a tacit understanding between mother and daughters that Joyce should be "kept in her place," whilst Joyce herself, with a sore heart and memories of a happy, if comparatively humble, home, vainly wished that she had any definite place to fill and work to do.
[CHAPTER II.]
"I HAVE not a friend here but you, Sarah. I must leave this miserable place," said Joyce, between her sobs.