d sanguine, it was
natural to Evelyn to admire; and Caroline was, to her inexperience, a
brilliant and imposing novelty. Sometimes Miss Merton's worldliness of
thought shocked Evelyn; but then Caroline had a way with her as if she
were not in earnest,--as if she were merely indulging an inclination
towards irony; nor was she without a certain vein of sentiment that
persons a little hackneyed in the world and young ladies a little
disappointed that they are not wives instead of maids, easily acquire.
Trite as this vein of sentiment was, poor Evelyn thought it beautiful
and most feeling. Then, Caroline was clever, entertaining, cordial, with
all that superficial superiority that a girl of twenty-three who knows
London readily exercises over a country girl of seventeen. On the other
hand, Caroline was kind and affectionate towards her. The clergyman's
daughter felt that she could not be always superior, even in fashion, to
the wealthy heiress.

One evening, as Mrs. Leslie and Mrs. Merton sat under the veranda of the
cottage, without their hostess, who had gone alone into the village, and
the young ladies were confidentially conversing on the lawn, Mrs.
Leslie said rather abruptly, "Is not Evelyn a delightful creature? How
unconscious of her beauty; how simple, and yet so naturally gifted!"

"I have never seen one who interested me more," said Mrs. Merton,
settling her _pelerine_; "she is extremely pretty."

"I am so anxious about her," resumed Mrs. Leslie, thoughtfully. "You
know the wish of the late Lord Vargrave that she should marry his
nephew, the present lord, when she reaches the age of eighteen. She
only wants nine or ten months of that time; she has seen nothing of the
world: she is not fit to decide for herself; and Lady Vargrave, the best
of human creatures, is still herself almost too inexperienced in
the world to be a guide for one so young placed in such peculiar
circumstances, and of prospects so brilliant. Lady Vargrave at heart is
a child still, and will be so even when as old as I am."

"It is very true," said Mrs. Merton. "Don't you fear that the girls will
catch cold? The dew is falling, and the grass must be wet."

"I have thought," continued Mrs. Leslie, without heeding the latter part
of Mrs. Merton's speech, "that it would be a kind thing to invite Evelyn
to stay with you a few months at the Rectory. To be sure, it is not like
London; but you see a great deal of the world. The society at your
ho