Above all, she avoided saying a single word of reproach, being resolved to make the best of every thing that could not be helped. In fact, she tried every means of consoling her unhappy daughter she could, teaching her to bear up against her blighted prospects with piety and firmness.
“Dearest child,” she would say, “as you have brewed, you know, so you must bake; you threw away Fortune when she solicited, and you must learn to bear her loss. Experience has shown me that the hope we most count upon is often delusive. Follow my example; listen to it no longer, and endless disappointments will no longer destroy your peace. Look for no favourable change in your fate, and you will soon be contented. It is better to honour our spinning-wheel, which procures us the means of living, than to dream of greatness and wealth, since we have learnt to do without them.”
Such philosophical remarks came from the good old lady’s heart, since the failure of her last dear hope connected with the worthy brewer. She had simplified her mode of life, so that it was hard for fate to interfere with it farther. Mela had not acquired the same philosophical resignation, and her mother’s advice had a different effect from that she contemplated. Her daughter’s conscience smote her as the destroyer of her mother’s fondest hopes, and she severely reproached herself. Though they
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