be a woman, would already have become a brute, who would
desire to keep any girl belonging to her out of matrimony for the
sake of companionship to herself. But no woman does so desire in
regard to those who are dear and near to her. A dependant, distant
in blood, or a paid assistant, may find here and there a want of the
true feminine sympathy; but in regard to a daughter, or one held as
a daughter, it is never wanting. "As the pelican loveth her young do
I love thee; and therefore will I give thee away in marriage to some
one strong enough to hold thee, even though my heartstrings be torn
asunder by the parting." Such is always the heart's declaration of
the mother respecting her daughter. The match-making of mothers is
the natural result of mother's love; for the ambition of one woman
for another is never other than this,--that the one loved by her
shall be given to a man to be loved more worthily. Poor Aunt Sarah,
considering of these things during those two lonely days, came to the
conclusion that if ever Mary were to be so loved again that she might
be given away, a long time might first elapse; and then she was aware
that such gifts given late lose much of their value, and have to be
given cheaply.

Mary herself, as she was driven slowly up the hill to her aunt's
door, did not share her aunt's melancholy. To be returned as a bad
shilling, which has been presented over the counter and found to be
bad, must be very disagreeable to a young woman's feelings. That was
not the case with Mary Lowther. She had, no doubt, a great sorrow
at heart. She had created a shipwreck which she did regret most
bitterly. But the sorrow and the regret were not humiliating, as they
would have been had they been caused by failure on her own part. And
then she had behind her the strong comfort of her own rock, of which
nothing should now rob her,--which should be a rock for rest and
safety, and not a rock for shipwreck, and as to the disposition of
which Aunt Sarah's present ideas were so very erroneous!

It was impossible that the first evening should pass without a word
or two about poor Gilmore. Mary knew well enough that she had told
her aunt nothing of her renewed engagement with her cousin; but
she could not bring herself at once to utter a song of triumph, as
she would have done had she blurted out all her story. Not a word
was said about either lover till they were seated together in the
evening. "What you tell me about Mr. Gil