so that to
those who could not understand her motives and feelings, she appeared
every day more inconsistent. "It is difficult to judge of motives in
any case. I am sure, if he had only gone abroad into the world, and
seen distress as I have seen it, he could not have shut his heart
against his fellow-creatures: but his feelings were hardened against
some, whom he considered types of all, and he shut himself up; and
seeing no misery, at last believed, as many do, whom the world never
dreams of calling as you called him, Mabel--seeing no misery, believed
that it only existed in the popular whine. I am sure, if he had seen,
he would have relieved it. I always think _that_ when I am giving; it
is a great blessing to be able to give; and I would give more, were I
not fearful that it might injure you."

"Injure me, dear aunt, how?"

"Why, Mabel, my heart is greatly fixed upon seeing you a rich heiress,
and, in time, suitably established."

"You have just been saying how much happier you were when you were all
poor together, and yet you want to make me rich."

"People may be very happy in poverty before they have known riches;
but having once been rich, it would, I think, be absurd to suppose we
could ever be happy again in poverty."

"I saw," replied the girl, "two children pass the gate this morning
while I was gathering flowers--bunches of the simple white jessamine
you love so much, dear aunt--and they asked so hard for bread, that I
sent them a shilling."

"Too much," interrupted Sarah Bond, habitually rather than from
feeling; "too much, dear Mabel, to give to common beggars."

"There were two, you know, and they looked wan and hungry. About three
hours after, I was cantering my pony down Swanbrook Lane--the grass
there is so soft and green, that you cannot hear his feet, while I can
hear every grasshopper that chirps--suddenly, I heard a child's voice
singing a tune full of mirth, and I went softly, softly on; and there,
under a tree, sat one of my morning acquaintances, making believe to
sing through a stick, while the other danced with bare feet, and her
very rags fluttered in time to the tune. They looked pale and hungry,
though a thick crust of bread upon the grass proved that they were
not the latter; but I never saw more joy in well-fed, well-clothed
children, for they paused and laughed, and then began again. Poverty
was no pain to _them_, at all events."

"My dear," said Sarah Bond, "you forget the c