er life, wisely determined to betake
herself to the mill, and accept John Stokes's offer of sending Edward
to a friend in town, for the purpose of being placed with a civil
engineer:--a destination with which the boy himself--a fine intelligent
youth, by the way, tall and manly, with black eyes that talked and
laughed, and curling dark hair,--was delighted in every point of view.
He longed for a profession for which he had a decided turn; he longed
to see the world as personified by the city of cities, the unparagoned
London; and he longed more than either to get away from Aunt Deborah,
the storm of whose vituperation seemed ringing in his ears so long as he
continued within sight of her dwelling. One would think the clack of the
mill and the prattle of his pretty cousin Cicely might have drowned
it, but it did not. Nothing short of leaving the spinster fifty miles
behind, and setting the great city between him and her, could efface the
impression.

"I hope I am not ungrateful," thought Edward to himself, as he was
trudging London-ward after taking a tender leave of all at the mill; "I
hope I am not ungrateful. I do not think I am, for I would give my right
arm, ay, or my life, if it would serve master John Stokes or please dear
Cissy. But really I do hope never to come within hearing of Aunt Deborah
again, she storms so. I wonder whether all old women are so cross. I
don't think my mother will be, nor Cissy. I am sure Cissy won't Poor
Aunt Deborah! I suppose she can't help it." And with this indulgent
conclusion, Edward wended on his way.

Aunt Deborah's mood was by no means so pacific. She staid at home
fretting, fuming, and chafing, and storming herself hoarse--which, as
the people at the mill took care to keep out of earshot, was all so much
good scolding thrown away. The state of things since Edward's departure
had been so decisive, that even John Stokes thought it wiser to keep
himself aloof for a time; and although they pretty well guessed that she
would take measures to put in effect her threat of disinheritance, the
first outward demonstration came in the shape of a young man (gentleman
I suppose he called himself--ay, there is no doubt but he wrote himself
Esquire) who attended her to church a few Sundays after, and was
admitted to the honour of sitting in the same pew.

Nothing could be more unlike our friend Edward than the stranger.
Fair, freckled, light-haired, light-eyed, with invisible eye-brows and
e