On a chair by the bedside were all my own things，clean and dry. My black silk frock hung against the wall. The traces of the bog were removed from it; the creases left by the wet smoothed out: it was quite decent. My very shoes and stockings were purified and rendered presentable. There were the means of washing in the room，and a b and brush to smooth my hair. After a weary process，and resting every five minutes，I succeeded in dressing myself. My clothes hung loose on me; for I was much wasted，but I covered deficiencies with a shawl，and once more，clean and respectable looking- no speck of the dirt，no trace of the disorder I so hated，and which seemed so to degrade me，left- I crept down a stone staircase with the aid of the banisters，to a narrow low passage，and found my way presently to the kitchen.

It was full of the fragrance of new bread and the warmth of a generous fire. Hannah was baking. prejudices，it is well known，are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilised by education: they grow there，firm as weeds among stones. Hannah had been cold and stiff，indeed，at the first: latterly she had begun to relent a little; and when she saw me e in tidy and well-dressed，she even smiled.

"What，you have got up!" she said. "You are better，then. You may sit you down in my chair on the hearthstone，if you will."