adhere to the manner of speech which was common among
those with whom they lived." Thus Marion was saved from the "thees"
and the "thous," and escaped that touch of hypocrisy which seems to
permeate the now antiquated speeches of Quakers. Zachary Fay in these
latter years of his life was never known to laugh or to joke; but, if
circumstances were favourable, he would sometimes fall into a quaint
mode of conversation in which there was something of drollery and
something also of sarcasm; but this was unfrequent, as Zachary was
slow in making new friends, and never conversed after this fashion
with the mere acquaintance of the hour.

Of Marion Fay's appearance something has already been said; enough,
perhaps,--not to impress any clear idea of her figure on the mind's
eye of a reader, for that I regard as a feat beyond the power of any
writer,--but to enable the reader to form a conception of his own.
She was small of stature, it should be said, with limbs exquisitely
made. It was not the brilliance of her eyes or the chiselled
correctness of her features which had struck Hampstead so forcibly as
a certain expression of earnest eloquence which pervaded her whole
form. And there was a fleeting brightness of colour which went about
her cheeks and forehead, and ran around her mouth, which gave to her
when she was speaking a brilliance which was hardly to be expected
from the ordinary lines of her countenance. Had you been asked, you
would have said that she was a brunette,--till she had been worked
to some excitement in talking. Then, I think, you would have hardly
ventured to describe her complexion by any single word. Lord
Hampstead, had he been asked what he thought about her, as he sat
waiting for his friend, would have declared that some divinity of
grace had been the peculiar gift which had attracted him. And yet
that rapid change of colour had not passed unobserved, as she told
him that she was sorry that he did not go to church.

Marion Fay's life in Paradise Row would have been very lonely had she
not become acquainted with Mrs. Roden before her mother's death. Now
hardly a day passed but what she spent an hour with that lady. They
were, indeed, fast friends,--so much so that Mrs. Vincent had also
come to know Marion, and approving of the girl's religious tendencies
had invited her to spend two or three days at Wimbledon. This was
impossible, because Marion would never leave her father;--but she had
once or twice