man, though
by no means beautiful. Her great merit was the kindliness of her
disposition. She was not very clever, nor very animated, nor had she
apparently the energy of her brother; but she was guided by a high
principle of right and wrong; her temper was sweet, and her faults
were fewer in number than her virtues. Those who casually met Mary
Bold thought little of her; but those who knew her well loved her
well, and the longer they knew her the more they loved her. Among
those who were fondest of her was Eleanor Harding; and though Eleanor
had never openly talked to her of her brother, each understood the
other's feelings about him. The brother and sister were sitting
together when the two notes were brought in.

"How odd," said Mary, "that they should send two notes. Well, if Mr
Harding becomes fashionable, the world is going to change."

Her brother understood immediately the nature and intention of the
peace-offering; but it was not so easy for him to behave well in the
matter, as it was for Mr Harding. It is much less difficult for the
sufferer to be generous than for the oppressor. John Bold felt that
he could not go to the warden's party: he never loved Eleanor better
than he did now; he had never so strongly felt how anxious he was
to make her his wife as now, when so many obstacles to his doing
so appeared in view. Yet here was her father himself, as it were,
clearing away those very obstacles, and still he felt that he could
not go to the house any more as an open friend.

As he sat thinking of these things with the note in his hand, his
sister was waiting for his decision.

"Well," said she, "I suppose we must write separate answers, and both
say we shall be very happy."

"You'll go, of course, Mary," said he; to which she readily assented.
"I cannot," he continued, looking serious and gloomy. "I wish I
could, with all my heart."

"And why not, John?" said she. She had as yet heard nothing of the
new-found abuse which her brother was about to reform;--at least
nothing which connected it with her brother's name.

He sat thinking for a while till he determined that it would be best
to tell her at once what it was that he was about: it must be done
sooner or later.

"I fear I cannot go to Mr Harding's house any more as a friend, just
at present."

"Oh, John! Why not? Ah, you've quarrelled with Eleanor!"

"No, indeed," said he; "I've no quarrel with her as yet."

"What is it, John?"