Page:Female Prose Writers of America.djvu/149

 at Friend Hopper’s house, and asked to see him. When he entered the room, he found a handsomely dressed young matron with a blooming boy of five or six years old. She rose to meet him and her voice choked, as she said, “Friend Hopper, do you know me?” He replied that he did not. She fixed her tearful eyes earnestly upon him, and said, “You once helped me, when in great distress.” But the good missionary of humanity had helped too many in distress, to be able to recollect her without more precise information. With a tremulous voice, she bade her son go into the next room, for a few minutes; then dropping on her knees, she hid her face in his lap, and sobbed out, “I am the girl that stole the silk. Oh, where should I now be, if it had not been for you!”

When her emotion was somewhat calmed, she told him that she had married a highly respectable man, a Senator of his native State. Having a call to visit the city, she had again and again passed Friend Hopper’s house, looking wistfully at the windows to catch a sight of him; but when she attempted to enter, her courage failed.

“But I go away to-morrow,” said she, “and I could not leave the city, without once more seeing and thanking him who saved me from ruin.” She recalled her little boy, and said to him, “Look at that gentleman, and remember him well; for he was the best friend your mother ever had.” With an earnest invitation that he would visit her happy home, and a fervent “God bless you,” she bade her benefactor farewell.