g.

Seth was so happy now Dinah was in the house that he could not help
thinking her presence was worth purchasing with a life in which grief
incessantly followed upon grief; but the next moment he reproached
himself--it was almost as if he were rejoicing in his father's sad
death. Nevertheless the joy of being with Dinah WOULD triumph--it was
like the influence of climate, which no resistance can overcome. And the
feeling even suffused itself over his face so as to attract his mother's
notice, while she was drinking her tea.

"Thee may'st well talk o' trouble bein' a good thing, Seth, for thee
thriv'st on't. Thee look'st as if thee know'dst no more o' care an'
cumber nor when thee wast a babby a-lyin' awake i' th' cradle. For
thee'dst allays lie still wi' thy eyes open, an' Adam ne'er 'ud lie
still a minute when he wakened. Thee wast allays like a bag o' meal as
can ne'er be bruised--though, for the matter o' that, thy poor feyther
war just such another. But ye've got the same look too" (here Lisbeth
turned to Dinah). "I reckon it's wi' bein' a Methody. Not as I'm
a-findin' faut wi' ye for't, for ye've no call to be frettin', an'
somehow ye looken sorry too. Eh! Well, if the Methodies are fond o'
trouble, they're like to thrive: it's a pity they canna ha't all, an'
take it away from them as donna like it. I could ha' gi'en 'em plenty;
for when I'd gotten my old man I war worreted from morn till night; and
now he's gone, I'd be glad for the worst o'er again."

"Yes," said Dinah, careful not to oppose any feeling of Lisbeth's, for
her reliance, in her smallest words and deeds, on a divine guidance,
always issued in that finest woman's tact which proceeds from acute and
ready sympathy; "yes, I remember too, when my dear aunt died, I longed
for the sound of her bad cough in the nights, instead of the silence
that came when she was gone. But now, dear friend, drink this other cup
of tea and eat a little more."

"What!" said Lisbeth, taking the cup and speaking in a less querulous
tone, "had ye got no feyther and mother, then, as ye war so sorry about
your aunt?"

"No, I never knew a father or mother; my aunt brought me up from a baby.
She had no children, for she was never married and she brought me up as
tenderly as if I'd been her own child."

"Eh, she'd fine work wi' ye, I'll warrant, bringin' ye up from a babby,
an' her a lone woman--it's ill bringin' up a cade lamb. But I daresay
ye warna franzy, for ye look as