allwood, who had been the general manager of the collieries
and ironworks belonging to the firm in their father's time, and knew as
much about iron (and most other things) as he did. Maria was a good
woman of business, and she and Richard between them made money as fast
as it had been made in the days of William and John Farringdon. Anne, on
the contrary, was a meek and gentle soul, who had no power of governing
but a perfect genius for obedience, and who was always engaged on the
Herculean task of squaring the sternest dogmas with the most indulgent
practices.

Even in the early days of this history the Miss Farringdons were what is
called "getting on"; but the Willows was, nevertheless, not without a
youthful element in it. Close upon a dozen years ago the two sisters had
adopted the orphaned child of a second cousin, whose young widow had
died in giving birth to a posthumous daughter; and now Elisabeth
Farringdon was the light of the good ladies' eyes, though they would
have considered it harmful to her soul to let her have an inkling of
this fact.

She was not a pretty little girl, which was a source of much sorrow of
heart to her; and she was a distinctly clever little girl, of which she
was utterly unconscious, it being an integral part of Miss Farringdon's
system of education to imbue the young with an overpowering sense of
their own inferiority and unworthiness. During the first decade of her
existence Elisabeth used frequently and earnestly to pray that her hair
might become golden and her eyes brown; but as on this score the heavens
remained as brass, and her hair continued dark brown and her eyes
blue-gray, she changed her tactics, and confined her heroine-worship to
ladies of this particular style of colouring; which showed that, even at
the age of ten, Elisabeth had her full share of adaptability.

One day, when walking with Miss Farringdon to chapel, Elisabeth
exclaimed, _a propos_ of nothing but her own meditations, "Oh! Cousin
Maria, I do wish I was pretty!"

Most people would have been too much afraid of the lady of the Willows
to express so frivolous a desire in her august hearing; but Elisabeth
was never afraid of anybody, and that, perhaps, was one of the reasons
why her severe kinswoman loved her so well.

"That is a vain wish, my child. Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain;
and the Lord looketh on the heart and not on the outward appearance."

"But I wasn't thinking of the Lord," replied El