you were as handsome as the
picture over the chimney-piece, that you would be more dear to me on that
account, or that you would, in any respect, contribute more to my
happiness?"

"You would not love me better, dear mamma, but yet you would be more proud
of me, I should think."

"Then I must be a very weak woman to be proud of that which implied no
merit, either in you or me, and which the merest accident might, as we
perceive, destroy in a moment; but this I must add, that if, with
extraordinary beauty, you possessed sufficient good sense to remain as
simple in your manners, and as active in the pursuit of intellectual
endowments, as I hope to see you, _then_ I might be _proud_ of you, as the
usual expression is; for I beg you to remember that, strictly speaking, it
is wrong to be proud of any thing."

"Zebby always said that Mr. Hanson was very proud of Matilda--I suppose it
was of her beauty."

"I suppose so too, and you could not have brought forward a more decisive
proof of the folly and sin of pride, and the inefficacy of beauty to
procure love, than in the conduct and qualities of the persons in question.
Mr. Hanson's pride of his daughter's beauty rendered him blind to her
faults, or averse to correcting them; and from his indulgence, the effect
of that very beauty for which he sacrificed every real excellence, was so
completely impaired, that I am sure, with all your predilection for a
pretty face, you will allow that Matilda, with all those red spots
plastered with white ointment, is a thousand times more agreeable than
Matilda with bright eyes and ruddy cheeks on her first landing."

"Oh yes, yes!" cried Ellen, looking at her with the tenderest affection,
and relapsing into tears, which had frequently visited her eyes since the
time of the terrible accident.

The opiate had now spent itself, and Matilda, giving a slight shudder,
awoke, and looked at Ellen with a kind of recollective gaze, that recalled
the events of the morning, and which was succeeded by a sense of pain.

"What is the matter, Ellen? you are crying--have you been scalded?"

"No," said the affectionate child, "but _you_ have."

A confused recollection of all the particulars of the affair now came to
Matilda's memory; and as by degrees they arose on her mind, she became
ashamed of the extreme impatience she had exhibited, and surprised that
Ellen could love and pity so much a girl whose conduct was so little likely
to ensure affectio