To Love Anew by Bonnie Leon Page A

she convince anyone that she was a decent sort and could be trusted?
    She blinked back tears. Lord, couldn’t you spare me a little dignity?
    Three adolescent boys walked up to her. The tallest gawked openly. “Yer a bit old for a mud lark.” He pointed at her. “Eh, we got a mud lark, ’ere.” He grinned and made a goofy face.
    “Mud lark. Mud lark. Mud lark,” the boys chanted as they skipped away.
    Hannah bit back a retort. She wouldn’t resort to fighting with children. And she had to admit that she looked like one of the children who waded in the muck of the Thames, scavenging for pieces of coal and wood and other treasures.
    She headed toward the wharf, hoping to find a place where she could exchange her dirty gown for the clean one.
    When Hannah came upon a small bridge with a darkened footpath beneath it, she ducked into the shadows. Quickly pulling out her clean dress, she stripped off her soiled one, glancing about to make sure no one would find her in such undress. She stepped into the clean gown and quickly buttoned it. Her hands shook; she didn’t know if it was more from cold or hunger.
    Trying to keep her mind on practical things, she held up the dirtied dress. “You need a good washing,” she said matter-of-factly, as if speaking in an ordinary tone would make life normal. Bundling it beneath one arm, she picked up her satchel and continued on toward the river.
    She found a trail that led to the river’s edge and followed it. Setting aside her satchel and cloak, she crouched beside the river and pushed her muddied dress into the water. Unspeakable sludge swirled around the gown, but Hannah scrubbed anyway.
    When she felt the gown was as clean as she could get it, she wrung out the excess water and then hung it over a tree limb. Brown fog had blocked out the sun, so it would take many hours for the dress to dry. She would have to wait. At any rate, she had nowhere to go.
    Pulling her cloak about her, Hannah sat on the bank and watched the river. A flatboat carrying cargo quietly slid past. She wondered where it was headed, and then decided she really didn’t care. She was too weary to be concerned about such things.
    Bundled inside her cape, she rested against the trunk of a tree. Her eyes felt heavy, but she forced them open and looked about to make sure there were no vagrants nearby. In the end, she decided she didn’t care. What did it matter if she were murdered in her sleep? There were worse things than death. Besides, her mother and father awaited her in eternity.
    Sleep covered Hannah in its safety and she dreamed of better days. She’d been only six when her father was killed in a riding accident, but she remembered him. His eyes radiated joy and contentment. At the end of each day when he’d return home, he’d stride into the house and embrace Hannah’s mother and then turn to Hannah and hold out his arms. She could feel joy in his embrace. He tossed her into the air and she squealed with delight.
    “Papa,” she called. “Papa . . .”
    Hannah left her dream and realized she’d been sleeping. She didn’t want to awaken. Had she heard something?
    Pushing up on one arm, she could still feel the dream and had to force herself to focus on her surroundings. Her eyes went to the tree where she’d hung her dress. The gown was gone. She let out a loud breath. “Oh no. Someone’s gone off with it.” She looked about. Her satchel was also missing. While she’d slept, someone had relieved her of what few possessions she’d had. Her hand went to her mother’s necklace that hung around her neck. She was thankful she’d been wearing it.
    Sorrow seeped into Hannah. Lord, how can you have so completely forsaken me?
    Hannah cried until she had no tears left, but pitying herself served no purpose and she forced her mind toward sensible thinking. She must do something to remedy her situation.
    She stood, smoothed her gown, and then closed her cloak at the neck and set off for the market. It