d contained no other girl fit to hold a candle to her. No doubt it
would have been hard to find a girl more true and loving, more modest
and industrious; but hundreds and hundreds of better girls might be
found perhaps even in Yorkshire.

For this maiden had a strong will of her own, which makes against
absolute perfection; also she was troubled with a strenuous hate
of injustice--which is sure, in this world, to find cause for an
outbreak--and too active a desire to rush after what is right, instead
of being well content to let it come occasionally. And so firm could
she be, when her mind was set, that she would not take parables, or long
experience, or even kindly laughter, as a power to move her from the
thing she meant. Her mother, knowing better how the world goes on,
promiscuously, and at leisure, and how the right point slides away when
stronger forces come to bear, was very often vexed by the crotchets
of the girl, and called her wayward, headstrong, and sometimes nothing
milder than "a saucy miss."

This, however, was absurd, and Mary scarcely deigned to cry about it,
but went to her father, as she always did when any weight lay on her
mind. Nothing was said about any injustice, because that might lead to
more of it, as well as be (from a proper point of view) most indecorous.
Nevertheless, it was felt between them, when her pretty hair was shed
upon his noble waistcoat, that they two were in the right, and cared
very little who thought otherwise.

Now it was time to leave off this; for Mary (without heed almost of any
but her mother) had turned into a full-grown damsel, comely, sweet,
and graceful. She was tall enough never to look short, and short enough
never to seem too tall, even when her best feelings were outraged;
and nobody, looking at her face, could wish to do any thing but please
her--so kind was the gaze of her deep blue eyes, so pleasant the
frankness of her gentle forehead, so playful the readiness of rosy lips
for a pretty answer or a lovely smile. But if any could be found so
callous and morose as not to be charmed or nicely cheered by this,
let him only take a longer look, not rudely, but simply in a spirit of
polite inquiry; and then would he see, on the delicate rounding of each
soft and dimpled cheek, a carmine hard to match on palette, morning sky,
or flower bed.

Lovely people ought to be at home in lovely places; and though this can
not be so always, as a general rule it is. At Anerl