etter than either. She looked older than
when we first knew her, but it was a ripe, kindly age that was coming
over her. Her excellent practical sense, perhaps, made her a more
masculine character than her brother. He was often so much perplexed
by the problems of life, that he let the time for action go by; but
she kept him in check by her clear, pithy talk, which brought back
his wandering thoughts to the duty that lay straight before him,
waiting for action; and then he remembered that it was the faithful
part to "wait patiently upon God," and leave the ends in His hands,
who alone knows why Evil exists in this world, and why it ever hovers
on either side of Good. In this respect, Miss Benson had more faith
than her brother--or so it seemed; for quick, resolute action in the
next step of Life was all she required, while he deliberated and
trembled, and often did wrong from his very deliberation, when his
first instinct would have led him right.

But although decided and prompt as ever, Miss Benson was grown older
since the summer afternoon when she dismounted from the coach at the
foot of the long Welsh hill that led to Llan-dhu, where her brother
awaited her to consult her about Ruth. Though her eye was as bright
and straight-looking as ever, quick and brave in its glances, her
hair had become almost snowy white; and it was on this point she
consulted Sally, soon after the date of Leonard's last untruth.
The two were arranging Miss Benson's room one morning, when, after
dusting the looking-glass, she suddenly stopped in her operation, and
after a close inspection of herself, startled Sally by this speech:

"Sally! I'm looking a great deal older than I used to do!"

Sally, who was busy dilating on the increased price of flour,
considered this remark of Miss Benson's as strangely irrelevant to
the matter in hand, and only noticed it by a

"To be sure! I suppose we all on us do. But two-and-fourpence a dozen
is too much to make us pay for it."

Miss Benson went on with her inspection of herself, and Sally with
her economical projects.

"Sally!" said Miss Benson, "my hair is nearly white. The last time I
looked it was only pepper-and-salt. What must I do?"

"Do--why, what would the wench do?" asked Sally, contemptuously.
"Ye're never going to be taken in, at your time of life, by hair-dyes
and such gimcracks, as can only take in young girls whose
wisdom-teeth are not cut."

"And who are not very likely to want