you
will wear much finer when you are my lady."

"I hear Mamma's bell; go, Margaret, she wants you."

Left alone, the young beauty sank down abstractedly, and though the
looking-glass was opposite, it did not arrest her eye; she forgot her
wardrobe, her muslin dress, her fears, and her guests.

"Ah," she thought, "what a weight of dread I feel here when I think of
Lord Vargrave and this fatal engagement; and every day I feel it more
and more. To leave my dear, dear mother, the dear cottage--oh! I never
can. I used to like him when I was a child; now I shudder at his name.
Why is this? He is kind; he condescends to seek to please. It was the
wish of my poor father,--for father he really was to me; and yet--oh
that he had left me poor and free!"

At this part of Evelyn's meditation the unusual sound of wheels was
heard on the gravel; she started up, wiped the tears from her eyes, and
hurried down to welcome the expected guests.

CHAPTER V.

TELL me, Sophy, my dear, what do you think of our new visitors?
_Vicar of Wakefield_.

MRS. MERTON and her daughter were already in the middle drawing-room,
seated on either side of Mrs. Leslie,--the former a woman of quiet and
pleasing exterior, her face still handsome, and if not intelligent, at
least expressive of sober good-nature and habitual content; the latter a
fine dark-eyed girl, of decided countenance, and what is termed a showy
style of beauty,--tall, self-possessed, and dressed plainly indeed,
but after the approved fashion. The rich bonnet of the large shape then
worn; the Chantilly veil; the gay French _Cachemire_; the full sleeves,
at that time the unnatural rage; the expensive yet unassuming _robe de
soie_; the perfect _chaussure_; the air of society, the easy manner,
the tranquil but scrutinizing gaze,--all startled, discomposed, and
half-frightened Evelyn.

Miss Merton herself, if more at her ease, was equally surprised by the
beauty and unconscious grace of the young fairy before her, and rose to
greet her with a well-bred cordiality, which at once made a conquest of
Evelyn's heart.

Mrs. Merton kissed her cheek, and smiled kindly on her, but said little.
It was easy to see that she was a less conversable and more homely
person than Caroline.

When Evelyn conducted them to their rooms, the mother and daughter
detected at a glance the care that had provided for their comforts; and
something eager and expectant in Evelyn's eyes taught the good-nat