I too desired to be at home, and was glad when we were able to close our own dear front door behind us, and be gathered in to the silence of our little parlour. A home is a great thing, as I had not courage to say to Mr Robinson, if it is certainly one’s own home, as our little house is. When I think of my previous existence—of all I thought I could reasonably expect of the rest of my life, an allowed place at the extreme corner of someone’s drawing-room carpet, a Servant’s garret or no better, I give thanks for every little thing, which is unspeakably dear to me.
