at gift that beauty; though," she added, resorting
to the strain of morality which persons of her character are apt to
consider a salve for sin--"though it's all vanity, all vanity. 'Flesh
is grass'--a beautiful text that was your reverence preached from last
Sunday--'All flesh is grass.' Ah, well-a-day! so it is. We ought not
to be puffed up or conceited--no, no. As I said to Mrs. Leicester,
'Don't be puffed up, my good woman, because your niece has what folk
call a pretty face, nor don't expect that she's to make a good market
of it--it's but skin deep; remember our good rector's sermon, 'All
flesh is grass.'' Ah, deary me! people do need such putting in mind;
and, if you believe me, sir, unless indeed it be Rose, poor child, who
never had a bit of love in her head yet, I'll be bound every girl is
looking above her station--there's a pity, sir. All are not born with
a coach and horses; no, no;" and so, stimulated a little, perhaps, by
a glass of _real_, not gooseberry, champagne, poor Mrs. Myles would
have galloped on with a strange commentary upon her own conduct (of
the motives to which she was perfectly ignorant,) had not the rector
suddenly exclaimed, "Where is Rose?"

"Crying in her own room, I'll be bound; I'm sure she is. Why,
Rose--and I really must get your reverence to speak to her, she is
a sad girl--Rose Dillon, I say--so silent and homely-like--ah, dear!
Why, granddaughter--now, is it not undutiful of her, good sir,
when she knows how much I have suffered parting from my Helen. Rose
Dillon!"

But Rose Dillon was not weeping in her room, nor did she hear her
grandmother's voice when the carriage, that bore the bride to a new
world, drove off. Rose ran down the garden, intending to keep the
equipage in sight as long as it could be distinguished from an
eminence that was called the Moat, and which commanded an extensive
view of the high road. There was a good deal of brushwood creeping
up the elevation, and at one side it was overshadowed by several tall
trees; in itself it was a sweet, sequestered spot, a silent watching
place. She could hardly hear the carriage wheels, though she saw
it whirled along, just as it passed within sight of the tall trees.
Helen's arm, with its glittering bracelet, waved an adieu; this little
act of remembrance touched Rose, and, falling on her knees, she sobbed
forth a prayer, earnest and heartfelt, for her cousin's happiness.

"God bless you, Rose!" exclaimed the trembling