eck made the best imitation it could of an offended
swan's action. She was very angry. She said she did not like so many
ladies, which natural objection Richard met by saying that there was
only one lady.

"And Mrs. Berry," he added, dropping his voice. "You will treat her
as you did my dear girl, for she will require not only shelter but
kindness. I would rather leave her with you than with any one. She has
been very unfortunate."

His serious air and habitual tone of command fascinated the softness
of Berry, and it was not until he had gone that she spoke out.
"Unfort'nate! He's going to bring me an unfort'nate female! Oh! not from
my babe can I bear that! Never will I have her here! I see it. It's
that bold-faced woman he's got mixed up in, and she've been and made the
young man think he'll go for to reform her. It's one o' their arts--that
is; and he's too innocent a young man to mean anythin' else. But I ain't
a house of Magdalens no! and sooner than have her here I'd have the roof
fall over me, I would."

She sat down to eat her supper on the sublime resolve.

In love, Mrs. Berry's charity was all on the side of the law, and this
is the case with many of her sisters. The Pilgrim sneers at them for it,
and would have us credit that it is their admirable instinct which, at
the expense of every virtue save one, preserves the artificial barrier
simply to impose upon us. Men, I presume, are hardly fair judges, and
should stand aside and mark.

Early next day Mrs. Berry bundled off to Richard's hotel to let him
know her determination. She did not find him there. Returning homeward
through the park, she beheld him on horseback riding by the side of the
identical lady.

The sight of this public exposure shocked her more than the secret walk
under the trees... "You don't look near your reform yet," Mrs. Berry
apostrophized her. "You don't look to me one that'd come the Fair
Penitent till you've left off bein' fair--if then you do, which some of
ye don't. Laugh away and show yet airs! Spite o' your hat and feather,
and your ridin' habit, you're a Belle Donna." Setting her down again
absolutely for such, whatever it might signify, Mrs. Berry had a
virtuous glow.

In the evening she heard the noise of wheels stopping at the door.
"Never!" she rose from her chair to exclaim. "He ain't rided her out in
the mornin', and been and made a Magdalen of her afore dark?"

A lady veiled was brought into the house by Richard. M