Dr. Sandford I knew had powers of convincing, and I judge they were helped on this occasion by facts in the pecuniary state of our affairs, to which my mother could no longer quite shut her eyes. She had not money to remain where she was. I think she had not been able, properly, to be there, for a good while past; though the bills were paid somehow. But now her resources failed; the war was evidently ending disastrously for the South; her hopes gave way; and she agreed to let Dr. Sandford make arrangements for our going into the country. It was very bitter to her, the whole draught she had to swallow; and the very fact of being under necessity. Dr. Sandford had a deal of trouble, I fancy, to find any house or arrangement that would content her. No board was procurable that could be endured even for a day. The doctor found at last, and hired, and put in order for us, a small cottage on the way between Melbourne and Crum Elbow; and there, early in June, mamma and I found ourselves established; "Buried," she said; "sheltered," I thought.
"I wish I was dead," mamma said next morning.
"Mamma - why do you speak so? just now."
"There is no sort of view here - nothing in the world but those grass fields."
"We have this fine elm tree over the house, mamma, to shade us. That is worth a great deal."
"If the windows had Italian shades, they would be better. What windows! Who do you suppose lived here before us?"
"Mamma, I do think it is very comfortable."
"I hope you will show that you think so, then. I have had no comfort in you for a long time past."
I thought, I should never have comfort in anybody any more.
"What has changed you so?"