To see her with any thoughtless, obstinate, or irritable little one, was to think of a tender grandmother.

I seemed to have known her for ages--for always--from before time began! I hardly remembered my mother, but in my mind's eye she now looked like Lona; and if I imagined sister or child, invariably she had the face of Lona! My every imagination flew to her; she was my heart's wife! She hardly ever sought me, but was almost always within sound of my voice.

What I did or thought, I referred constantly to her, and rejoiced to believe that, while doing her work in absolute independence, she was most at home by my side.

Never for me did she neglect the smallest child, and my love only quickened my sense of duty.

To love her and to do my duty, seemed, not indeed one, but inseparable.