stiff cap of
quaker-like simplicity; while her dress, rich but plain, and of no very
modern fashion, served to increase the venerable appearance of one who
seemed not ashamed of years.

"My dear Mrs. Leslie," said the lady of the house, after a thoughtful
pause in the conversation that had been carried on for the last hour,
"it is very true; perhaps I was to blame in coming to this place; I
ought not to have been so selfish."

"No, my dear friend," returned Mrs. Leslie, gently; "selfish is a word
that can never be applied to you; you acted as became you,--agreeably
to your own instinctive sense of what is best when at your
age,--independent in fortune and rank, and still so lovely,--you
resigned all that would have attracted others, and devoted yourself, in
retirement, to a life of quiet and unknown benevolence. You are in your
sphere in this village,--humble though it be,--consoling, relieving,
healing the wretched, the destitute, the infirm; and teaching your
Evelyn insensibly to imitate your modest and Christian virtues." The
good old lady spoke warmly, and with tears in her eyes; her companion
placed her hand in Mrs. Leslie's.

"You cannot make me vain," said she, with a sweet and melancholy smile.
"I remember what I was when you first gave shelter to the poor, desolate
wanderer and her fatherless child; and I, who was then so poor and
destitute, what should I be, if I was deaf to the poverty and sorrows of
others,--others, too, who are better than I am. But now Evelyn, as
you say, is growing up; the time approaches when she must decide on
accepting or rejecting Lord Vargrave. And yet in this village how can
she compare him with others; how can she form a choice? What you say is
very true; and yet I did not think of it sufficiently. What shall I
do? I am only anxious, dear girl, to act so as may be best for her own
happiness."

"Of that I am sure," returned Mrs. Leslie; "and yet I know not how to
advise. On one hand, so much is due to the wishes of your late husband,
in every point of view, that if Lord Vargrave be worthy of Evelyn's
esteem and affection, it would be most desirable that she should prefer
him to all others. But if he be what I hear he is considered in the
world,--an artful, scheming, almost heartless man, of ambitious and hard
pursuits,--I tremble to think how completely the happiness of Evelyn's
whole life may be thrown away. She certainly is not in love with
him, and yet I fear she is one who