but I did though--that is, I saw the lady of the house; and much
as I liked master, I don't know but I liked mistress more--such a dear,
kind-hearted creature--and so good-looking, Vernon--one of the sort that
would never look old, or grow ugly, even if she lived to the age of
Methusalem. And her fondness for her old man is quite delightful--none
of your my-dearing or my-loving nonsense, or anxiety about every thing
he likes to eat and drink disagreeing with him; but good, downright,
honest, hearty affection, which was beautifully displayed in the happy
smile with which she regarded the old fellow, and witnessed how truly he
seemed to be enjoying himself. That's what I'd recommend all wives to do
who wish to preserve their good looks. A woman's beauty depends so much
upon expression, that if that's spoilt, farewell to all her charms, and
which nothing tends more to bring about than a countenance soured with
imaginary cares, instead of lighted up with thankfulness for innumerable
blessings--that's what makes half the women wither away into wrinkles so
early in life; whilst nothing renders their beauty so lasting as that
placid look of pure benevolence, which emanates from a heart full of
thankfulness to God--affection for those nearest and dearest to them,
and good-will towards all mankind."

"Thank ye, Frank--thank ye for these pretty little sentiments--very good
remarks, certainly, and true; but I think you'd better keep them to
bestow upon the future Mrs Trevelyan; I dare say you may find them
useful then. And now, have you any further news to tell me this
morning?"

"Yes, I believe I have. I was just going to tell you about the fair
ladies we met on the downs yesterday; but I've a great mind not to do
so."

"Eh? what? where?" interrupted Vernon. "Oh! do tell me--have you seen
them?"

"No," answered Frank demurely, "I haven't seen even the shadow of their
petticoats."

"Is this Squire Potts', then? eh!"

"Not impossible," rejoined Frank with most provoking coolness; "at
least," he continued, "I know nothing to the contrary, for never having
heard our worthy squire's cognomen, I see no reason why he may not be
called Potts as well as any thing else."

"Pshaw," said Vernon impatiently, "and is that all you have to tell me?
I really fancied you had heard or seen something."

"And so I have," rejoined Frank.

"Whom, then? eh! Do tell me!" demanded Vernon, eagerly.

"Timothy," replied Frank.

"Timothy!" reit