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Autobiographical Sketches by Annie Wood Besant
page 92 of 213 (43%)
employment, no matter what, provided it gave me food and lodging, and
enabled me to put aside my few pounds a month.

Relieved from the constant strain of fear and anxiety, my health was
quickly improving, and the improvement became more rapid after I went
down with my mother to Folkestone. The hearty welcome offered to me there
was extended with equal warmth to little Mabel, who soon arrived, a most
forlorn little maiden. She was only three years old, and she had not seen
me for some weeks; her passion of delight was pitiful; she clung to me,
in literal fashion, for weeks afterwards, and screamed if she lost sight
of me for a moment; it was long before she got over the separation and
the terror of her lonely journey from Sibsey and London in charge only of
the guard. But she was a "winsome wee thing", and danced into everyone's
heart; after "mamma", "granny" was the prime favorite, and my dear mother
worshipped her first grand-daughter; never was prettier picture than the
red-golden hair nestled against the white, the baby-grace contrasting
with the worn stateliness of her tender nurse. From that time forward--
with the exception of a few weeks of which I shall speak presently and of
the yearly stay of a month with her father--little Mabel was my constant
companion, until Sir George Jessel's brutality robbed me of my child. She
would play contentedly while I was working, a word now and again enough
to make her happy; when I had to go out without her she would run to the
door with me, and the "good-bye" came from down-curved lips, and she was
ever watching at the window for my return, and the sunny face was always
the first to welcome me home. Many and many a time have I been coming
home, weary and heart-sick, and the glimpse of the little face watching
has reminded me that I must not carry in a grave face to sadden my
darling, and the effort to throw off the dreariness for her sake shook it
off altogether, and brought back the sunshine. I have never forgiven Sir
George Jessel, and I never shall, though his death has left me only his
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