n. There stood before her
a young man, with a countenance so like her father's, that the fact
startled her. Still there was a difference, for--whether from the
consciousness of birth, or authority, or position in life--there was
something in her father's features that redeemed them from absolute
vulgarity. Here, however, although the resemblance was extraordinary,
and every feature almost identical, there might be read in the
countenance of her brother a low, commonplace expression, that looked as
if it were composed of effrontery, cunning, and profligacy. Lucy for
a moment shrank back from such a countenance, and the shock of
disappointment chilled the warmth with which she had been prepared
to receive him. But, then, her generous heart told her that she might
probably be prejudging the innocent--that neglect, want of education,
the influence of the world, and, worst of all, distress and suffering,
might have caused the stronger, more vulgar, and exceedingly
disagreeable expression which she saw before her; and the reader is
already aware of the consequences which these struggles, at their first
interview, had upon her. Subsequently to that, however, Mr. Ambrose,
in supporting his father's views, advanced principles in such complete
accordance with them, as to excite in his sister's breast, first a
deep regret that she could not love him as she had hoped to do; then
a feeling stronger than indifference itself, and ultimately one little
short of aversion. Her father had been now gone about half an hour, and
she hoped that her brother might not come, when a servant came to say
that Mr. Gray was in the drawing-room, and requested to see her.

She felt that the interview would be a painful one to her; but still he
was her brother, and she knew she could not avoid seeing him.

After the first salutations were over,

"What is the matter with you, Lucy?" he asked; "you look ill and
distressed. I suppose the old subject of the marriage--eh?"

"I trust it is one which you will not renew, Thomas. I entreat you to
spare me on it."

"I am too much your friend to do so, Lucy. It is really inconceivable to
me why you should oppose it as you do. But the truth is, you don't know
the world, or you would think and act very differently."

"Thomas," she replied, whilst her eyes filled with tears, "I am almost
weary of life. There is not one living individual to whom I can turn for
sympathy or comfort. Papa has forbidden me to visit