I ran up stairs to my own apartment, or that which was called mine, and, sitting down in an embrasure of the window, drew aside the rosy damask and gazed around me.
Do not judge me too harshly.

I was ungrateful; I knew I was.

My heart rose against Mrs.Linwood for her cold decision.

I forgot, for the moment, her holy ministrations to my dying mother, her care and protection of me, when left desolate and alone.

I forgot that I had no claims on her beyond what her compassion granted.