The first distinct thing I can remember was old Martha telling me I should write to my father's man of business, old Penwick, whom I had seen several times when he came to see my poor dear father on business. I did so. Worcester, where he resided, was not very distant from us, but news from our part of the world travelled slowly along the country roads, and my letter reached Mr Penwick before rumour. The old gentleman was inexpressibly shocked and grieved. I find that suddenness has a great deal to do with feelings of that kind-not that I think Mr Penwick would have shown less sympathy had my parents died after a long illness instead of in the sudden manner that they did; but the blow, coming like a thunderclap as it happened, certainly caused him intense pain, and made his benevolent old heart open towards me in a most tender and fatherly manner. He advised me to think of some of my nearer relations, and to write and ask one of them to come and stay with me for a while, until some plan for the future could be made, for there would be some work for the lawyers, and much to be done before my affairs could be put into good order. I was a minor, too, and must have a guardian.

My father's will had to be discovered, and whilst all this was being done, as my presence was necessary, Mr Penwick said I ought to have someone to stay and live with me, to cheer me up and divert my unhappy thoughts into some brighter and altogether different channel. I felt too languid, too indifferent. My simple prayers were that I too might die, and go to that happy land where I had been taught to believe my beloved parents had gone, and where I might be with them for ever.

Had my cousins, the Althairs, been still at Leigh, Mr Penwick would have called in on his way in and out from Worcester, and asked my aunt to let one of the girls come to keep me company; but they had gone to live in France.