ey chose
to say nothing of the matter which was in her heart continually, would
she go whining to them about it, and scrape a grain of pity from
a cartload of contempt? One day, as she stood before the swinging
glass--that present from Aunt Popplewell which had moved her mother's
wrath so--she threw back her shoulders, and smoothed the plaits of her
nice little waist, and considered herself. The humor of the moment grew
upon her, and crept into indulgence, as she saw what a very fair lass
she was, and could not help being proud of it. She saw how the soft rich
damask of her cheeks returned at being thought of, and the sparkle
of her sweet blue eyes, and the merry delight of her lips, that made
respectable people want to steal a kiss, from the pure enticement of
good-will.

"I will cry no more in the nights," she said. "Why should I make such a
figure of myself, with nobody to care for it? And here is my hair full
of kinkles and neglect! I declare, if he ever came back, he would say,
'What a fright you are become, my Mary!' Where is that stuff of Aunt
Deborah's, I wonder, that makes her hair like satin? It is high time to
leave off being such a dreadful dowdy. I will look as nice as ever, just
to let them know that their cruelty has not killed me."

Virtuous resolves commend themselves, and improve with being carried
out. She put herself into her very best trim, as simple as a lily, and
as perfect as a rose, though the flutter of a sigh or two enlarged her
gentle breast. She donned a very graceful hat, adorned with sweet ribbon
right skillfully smuggled; and she made up her mind to have the benefit
of the air.

The prettiest part of all Anerley Farm, for those who are not farmers,
is a soft little valley, where a brook comes down, and passes from
voluntary ruffles into the quiet resignation of a sheltered lake. A
pleasant and a friendly little water-spread is here, cheerful to the
sunshine, and inviting to the moon, with a variety of gleamy streaks,
according to the sky and breeze. Pasture-land and arable come sloping to
the margin, which, instead of being rough and rocky, lips the pool with
gentleness. Ins and outs of little bays afford a nice variety, while
round the brink are certain trees of a modest and unpretentious bent.
These having risen to a very fair distance toward the sky, come down
again, scarcely so much from a doubt of their merits, as through
affection to their native land. In summer they hang like a