there should be a _but_!)
poor Ursula had an unfortunate cast in her left eye--in others words
she squinted--yes, absolutely squinted!

Dear, dear what a pity!

Yet stop, don't judge the little heiress too hastily, for after all it
was not a bad squint--indeed, if you knew her, you would say it was
really a becoming squint, such a roguish, knowing look did it give
her! Nevertheless, it was a squint, and poor Ursula, notwithstanding
the bewitching form and features her mirror threw back, fancied this a
deformity which cast aside all her graces. And here again the _gold_
jaundiced her imagination and whispered, "were it not for _me_ what a
horrible squint you would have in the straight forward eyes of the
world!"

When her parents died Ursula Lovel was but an infant, yet as tender
and affectionate as parents had been the good uncle and aunt to whose
love and guardianship she was bequeathed. They had no children, and
gladly took the little orphan to their bosoms with pity and love--and
Ursula required all their watchful care, for she was ever a feeble
child, giving no indications of that sprightly beauty and perfect
health she now exhibited. Then indeed the squint was truly a
deformity, for her thin, sallow countenance only made it far more
conspicuous.

People should be more guarded what they say before children. One good
old lady by a careless remark instilled into the mind of little
Ursula a jealousy and distrust, which, but for the good sense maturer
years brought to bear against such early impressions, would have
rendered her unhappy for life. Propped up by pillows, she sat at a
small table amusing herself by building little card houses, and then
seeing them tumble down with all the kings and queens of her little
city, when she heard her name mentioned in accents of pity by an old
lady who had come to pay her aunt a morning visit.

"She is very plain--is not she? What a great misfortune that her
father should have left her so much money! Poor thing, it will only
prove a curse to her, for if she lives she will doubtless become the
prey of some fortune-hunter."

Now what was meant by "fortune-hunter"--whether some giant or horrid
ogress--the little girl could not tell, but that it was some dreadful
thing waiting to devour her because she had money, haunted her mind
continually. She was a child of fine capacity, and at school generally
ranked the highest in her class--how many times her envious mates
would say: