ite
the contrary."

Coming slowly up the green slope between the gate and the church were
the two persons recognised by Clifton as Ben and Cousin Betsey. They
moved along in a leisurely way, nodding to one and speaking to another,
so that there was time to discuss them as they approached.

"Lizzie," said her brother, "do you suppose you'll ever come to look
like Cousin Betsey?"

"I am quite sure I shall never wear such a bonnet," said Elizabeth,
pettishly. "Why will she make a fright of herself?"

"It is as an offset to you--so fine as you are," said Clifton, laughing.
"She had that gown before Ben was born; I remember it perfectly."

Miss Betsey Holt was a striking-looking person, notwithstanding the
oddness and shabbiness of her dress. Scantiness is a better word for it
than shabbiness, for her dress was of good material, neat and well
preserved, but it was without a superfluous fold or gather, and in those
days, when, even in country places, crinoline was beginning to assert
itself, she did look ludicrously straight and stiff. Miss Elizabeth's
dress was neither in material nor make of the fashion that had its
origin in the current year, and city people, wise in such matters, might
have set them both down as old-fashioned. But in appearance, as they
drew near one another, there was a great contrast between them, though
in feature there was a strong resemblance.

There was more than fifteen years' difference in their ages, and Betsey
looked older than her forty years. She was above the middle height,
thin and dark and wrinkled, and there were white streaks in the brown
hair brought down low and flat upon the cheek, but in every feature the
bright youthful beauty of the girl had once been hers. Some of the
neighbours, who were regarding them as they met, would have said that
once Miss Betsey had been much handsomer than ever Miss Elizabeth would
be. For Miss Betsey had been young at a time when there was little
danger that indolence or self-indulgence could injure the full
development of healthful beauty, and as yet Miss Elizabeth had fallen on
easy days, and was languid at times, and delicate, and if the truth must
be told, a little discontented with what life had as yet brought her,
and a little afraid of what might lie before her, and there was a shadow
of this on her fair face to-day.

They had not much to say to each other, and they stood in silence
watching the two lads. Clifton was considered in