Page:Shepherdess of the Alps (1).pdf/5

5 surcharged with the morning dew, employs that time in putting every thing in the neat order and manner you see them placed. What! said the Countess, interrupting her, is the shepherdess indeed your daughter? Would to heaven she was, replied the good old creature! she is the daughter of my heart, and I have a mother's fondness for hcrher [sic]; but I am not so happy as to have brought such perfections into the world, nor are we worthy of such honour. What is she thcnthen [sic]? Whence came she? What misfortune has reduced hcrher [sic] to so low a station? All that is a secret to us. Three years ago she came here in the habit of a villager, and offered to tend our flock. She would have bcenbeen [sic] wclcomcwelcome [sic] to sharcshare [sic] our little, without taking upon her that painful task; so much the sweetness of her person and behaviour engaged our hearts. We could not believe she was brcdbred [sic] in a cottage. Our questions made her uneasy. We desisted from farther cnquiryenquiry [sic], as they seemed to disturb her. As our knowledge of her good qualities incrcasedincreased [sic], so did our respect, but the morcmore [sic] we strove to show her that rcspectrespect [sic], the more she humbled herself beforcbefore [sic] us. No, nevcrnever [sic] had any child for its parents a more tender regard, a more constant care She cannot obey, because 'tis impossible for us to command; but she dives into our hearts, and prevents our wishes, when they are scarcely formed. What is shcshe [sic] doing now in thcthe [sic] sheep-fold, asked the Countess. She milks the ewes and she-goats, fosters the young kids and lambs, and gives them fresh litter. The cheeses she makes are thought delicious; no doubt for having been pressed with her neat hands. I carry it to the