happy man, Mrs Varden.'

'Ah!' sighed Mrs V., shaking her head.

'Ah!' echoed Miggs.

'Is that the case?' said Mr Chester, compassionately. 'Dear me!'

'Master has no intentions, sir,' murmured Miggs as she sidled up to him,
'but to be as grateful as his natur will let him, for everythink he owns
which it is in his powers to appreciate. But we never, sir'--said Miggs,
looking sideways at Mrs Varden, and interlarding her discourse with a
sigh--'we never know the full value of SOME wines and fig-trees till we
lose 'em. So much the worse, sir, for them as has the slighting of 'em
on their consciences when they're gone to be in full blow elsewhere.'
And Miss Miggs cast up her eyes to signify where that might be.

As Mrs Varden distinctly heard, and was intended to hear, all that Miggs
said, and as these words appeared to convey in metaphorical terms a
presage or foreboding that she would at some early period droop beneath
her trials and take an easy flight towards the stars, she immediately
began to languish, and taking a volume of the Manual from a neighbouring
table, leant her arm upon it as though she were Hope and that her
Anchor. Mr Chester perceiving this, and seeing how the volume was
lettered on the back, took it gently from her hand, and turned the
fluttering leaves.

'My favourite book, dear madam. How often, how very often in his early
life--before he can remember'--(this clause was strictly true) 'have I
deduced little easy moral lessons from its pages, for my dear son Ned!
You know Ned?'

Mrs Varden had that honour, and a fine affable young gentleman he was.

'You're a mother, Mrs Varden,' said Mr Chester, taking a pinch of snuff,
'and you know what I, as a father, feel, when he is praised. He gives me
some uneasiness--much uneasiness--he's of a roving nature, ma'am--from
flower to flower--from sweet to sweet--but his is the butterfly time of
life, and we must not be hard upon such trifling.'

He glanced at Dolly. She was attending evidently to what he said. Just
what he desired!

'The only thing I object to in this little trait of Ned's, is,' said Mr
Chester, '--and the mention of his name reminds me, by the way, that I
am about to beg the favour of a minute's talk with you alone--the only
thing I object to in it, is, that it DOES partake of insincerity. Now,
however I may attempt to disguise the fact from myself in my affection
for Ned, still I always revert to this--that if we are not sincere, we