rt. But I don't think she will,
very long. I have no doubt she will be hard to please; but if I were
a man I should fall in love with her at once. Did you ever observe
her teeth, Mark?"

"I don't think I ever did."

"You wouldn't know whether any one had a tooth in their head, I
believe."

"No one except you, my dear; and I know all yours by heart."

"You are a goose."

"And a very sleepy one; so, if you please, I'll go to roost."
And thus there was nothing more said about Lucy's beauty on that
occasion.

For the first two days Mrs. Robarts did not make much of her
sister-in-law. Lucy, indeed, was not demonstrative: and she was,
moreover, one of those few persons--for they are very few--who are
contented to go on with their existence without making themselves the
centre of any special outward circle. To the ordinary run of minds
it is impossible not to do this. A man's own dinner is to himself
so important that he cannot bring himself to believe that it is a
matter utterly indifferent to every one else. A lady's collection of
baby-clothes, in early years, and of house linen and curtain-fringes
in later life, is so very interesting to her own eyes, that she
cannot believe but what other people will rejoice to behold it. I
would not, however, be held as regarding this tendency as evil. It
leads to conversation of some sort among people, and perhaps to a
kind of sympathy. Mrs. Jones will look at Mrs. White's linen chest,
hoping that Mrs. White may be induced to look at hers. One can only
pour out of a jug that which is in it. For the most of us, if we do
not talk of ourselves, or at any rate of the individual circles of
which we are the centres, we can talk of nothing. I cannot hold with
those who wish to put down the insignificant chatter of the world.
As for myself, I am always happy to look at Mrs. Jones's linen,
and never omit an opportunity of giving her the details of my own
dinners. But Lucy Robarts had not this gift. She had come there as
a stranger into her sister-in-law's house, and at first seemed as
though she would be contented in simply having her corner in the
drawing-room and her place at the parlour-table. She did not seem to
need the comforts of condolence and open-hearted talking. I do not
mean to say that she was moody, that she did not answer when she was
spoken to, or that she took no notice of the children; but she did
not at once throw herself and all her hopes and sorrows into Fanny's
hea