Then, as she bent to kiss me, and gently whispered,
"_God bless thee, child_," she seemed to leave her serene spirit as a
mantle of repose.
When the Sabbath came, I walked hand in hand with her to the village
church. There was much there to distract my attention, particularly in
that rare sight, the ample white wig (the _last of the wigs_ of
Connecticut!) on the head of the venerable minister, who, though too
infirm for much active service, still held his place in the pulpit; but
I listened with all my might, intent on hearing something which I might
remember, and repeat to please Cousin Mary Rose; for I knew that she
would expect me to turn to the text, and would question me whether I had
understood it. I have pleasant hymns too, in recollection, which date
back to this very time. They have outlived the beautiful little purse
which was Mr. Williams's parting gift to me, and the tortoise-shell
kitten, with which Aunt Rose sought to console me, in my grief at seeing
myself sent for to return home. The summons was sudden but peremptory,
and I obeyed it with a sad heart.
I cannot tell how long afterwards it was, for months and years are not
very different in the calendar of childhood, when I was surprised with
the announcement that a change had come over Cousin Mary Rose. She was
changed to Mrs. Williams, and had gone with him, I think, to the South.
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