egards to yourself, and my friend the doctor,

"I am, yours very sincerely,

"GERTRUDE FLINT."

CHAPTER XXVI.

JEALOUSY.

Mr. Graham's country-house boasted a fine, old fashioned entry, with a
door at either end, both of which usually stood open during the warm
weather, admitting a current of air, and rendering the neighbourhood of
the front entrance a favourite resort of the family, during the early
hours of the day, when the sun had no access to the spot. Here, on a
pleasant June morning, Isabel Clinton and her cousin, Kitty Ray, had
made themselves comfortable.

Isabel had drawn a large arm-chair close to the door-sill, ensconced
herself in it, and was gazing idly down the road. She was a beautiful
girl, tall and well-formed, with a delicate complexion, clear blue eyes,
and rich, light, flowing curls. The same lovely child, whom Gertrude had
gazed upon with rapture, as, leaning against the window of her father's
house, she once watched old True while he lit his lamp, had ripened into
an equally lovely woman. At an early age deprived of her mother, and
left for some years to the care of servants, she soon learned to
appreciate, at more than their true value, her outward attractions; and
her aunt, under whose tutelage she had been since she left school, did
not counteract this undue self-admiration. An appearance of conscious
superiority which distinguished her, and her independent air, might be
attributed to her conviction that Belle Clinton, the beauty and the
heiress, attired in a blue cashmere morning-dress, richly embroidered,
and open in front, for the purpose of displaying an equally rich
flounced cambric petticoat.

On a low step at her feet sat Kitty Ray, a complete contrast to her
cousin in looks, manners and many points of character. She was a sweet
little creature, lively, playful, and affectionate. She was so small
that her childish manners became her; so full of spirits that her
occasional rudeness claimed pardon on that score; and for all other
faults her warm-heartedness and generous enthusiasm must plead an excuse
to one who wished to love her as she wished and expected to be loved by
everybody. She was a pretty girl, always bright and animated, mirthful
and happy; fond of her cousin Belle, and sometimes influenced by her,
though often enlisting on the opposite side of some contested question.
Unlike Belle, she was seldom well dressed, for she was very careless. On
the presen