heard the wheels—and th

I left her, with a sorrowful heart. She went

in before my boxes were lifted to the coach-roof and shut the door. As

long as I could see the house, I looked back at it from the window

through my tears. My godmother had left Mrs. Rachael all the little

property she possessed; and there was to be a sale; and an old hearth-rug

with roses on it, which always seemed to me the first thing in the world I

had ever seen, was hanging outside in the frost and snow. A day or two

before, I had wrapped the dear old doll in her own shawl and quietly laid

her—I am half ashamed to tell it—in the garden-earth under the tree

that shaded my old window. I had no companion left but my bird, and

him I carried with me in his cage.

When the house was out of sight, I sat, with my bird-cage in the

straw at my feet, forward on the low seat to look out of the high window,

watching the frosty trees, that were like beautiful pieces of spar, and the

fields all smooth and white with last night’s snow, and the sun, so red

but yielding so little heat, and the ice, dark like metal where the skaters

and sliders had brushed the snow away. There was a gentleman in the

coach who sat on the opposite seat and looked very large in a quantity of

wrappings, but he sat gazing out of the other window and took no notice

of me.

I thought of my dead godmother, of the night when I read to her, of

her frowning so fixedly and sternly in her bed, of the strange place I was

going to, of the people I should find there, and what they would be like,

and what they would say to me, when a voice in the coach gave me a

terrible start.

It said, What the de-vil are you crying for?” ‟

I was so frightened that I lost my voice and could only answer in a

whisper, Me, sir?” For of course I knew it must have been the gentleman ‟

in the quantity of wrappings, though he was still looking out of his

window.

‟Yes, you,” he said, turning round.

I left her, with a sorrowful heart. She went

in before my boxes were lifted to the coach-roof and shut the door. As

long as I could see the house, I looked back at it from the window

through my tears. My godmother had left Mrs. Rachael all the little

property she possessed; and there was to be a sale; and an old hearth-rug

with roses on it, which always seemed to me the first thing in the world I

had ever seen, was hanging outside in the frost and snow. A day or two

before, I had wrapped the dear old doll in her own shawl and quietly laid

her—I am half ashamed to tell it—in the garden-earth under the tree

that shaded my old window. I had no companion left but my bird, and

him I carried with me in his cage.

When the house was out of sight, I sat, with my bird-cage in the

straw at my feet, forward on the low seat to look out of the high window,

watching the frosty trees, that were like beautiful pieces of spar, and the

fields all smooth and white with last night’s snow, and the sun, so red

but yielding so little heat, and the ice, dark like metal where the skaters

and sliders had brushed the snow away. There was a gentleman in the

coach who sat on the opposite seat and looked very large in a quantity of

wrappings, but he sat gazing out of the other window and took no notice

of me.

I thought of my dead godmother, of the night when I read to her, of

her frowning so fixedly and sternly in her bed, of the strange place I was

going to, of the people I should find there, and what they would be like,

and what they would say to me, when a voice in the coach gave me a

terrible start.

It said, What the de-vil are you crying for?” ‟

I was so frightened that I lost my voice and could only answer in a

whisper, Me, sir?” For of course I knew it must have been the gentleman ‟

in the quantity of wrappings, though he was still looking out of his

window.

‟Yes, you,” he said, turning round.