had stuck to the office
in spite of his wealth; and as he had never married, he had been
a rich man. During his father's lifetime, and when he was quite
young, he had for a while shone in the world of fashion, having been
patronised by the Mackenzie baronet, and by others who thought that a
clerk from Somerset House with twelve thousand pounds must be a very
estimable fellow. He had not, however, shone in a very brilliant way.
He had gone to parties for a year or two, and during those years had
essayed the life of a young man about town, frequenting theatres and
billiard-rooms, and doing a few things which he should have left
undone, and leaving undone a few things which should not have been
so left. But, as I have said, he was weak in body as well as weak
in mind. Early in life he became an invalid; and though he kept his
place in Somerset House till he died, the period of his shining in
the fashionable world came to a speedy end.

Now, at length, we will come to Margaret Mackenzie, the sister, our
heroine, who was eight years younger than her brother Walter, and
twelve years younger than Mr Rubb's partner. She had been little more
than a child when her father died; or I might more correctly say,
that though she had then reached an age which makes some girls young
women, it had not as yet had that effect upon her. She was then
nineteen; but her life in her father's house had been dull and
monotonous; she had gone very little into company, and knew very
little of the ways of the world. The Mackenzie baronet people had not
noticed her. They had failed to make much of Walter with his twelve
thousand pounds, and did not trouble themselves with Margaret, who
had no fortune of her own. The Ball baronet people were at extreme
variance with all her family, and, as a matter of course, she
received no countenance from them. In those early days she did not
receive much countenance from any one; and perhaps I may say that she
had not shown much claim for such countenance as is often given to
young ladies by their richer relatives. She was neither beautiful
nor clever, nor was she in any special manner made charming by any
of those softnesses and graces of youth which to some girls seem to
atone for a want of beauty and cleverness. At the age of nineteen,
I may almost say that Margaret Mackenzie was ungainly. Her brown
hair was rough, and did not form itself into equal lengths. Her
cheek-bones were somewhat high, after the manner