r."

"She mightn't marry you, still," said Mrs. Armadale, with a fine smile.

"No, certainly," said Mrs. Barclay, returning the smile; "but--you
know, girls' hearts are not to be depended on. They do run away with
them, when the right person comes."

"My Lois will wait till he comes," said the old lady, with a sort of
tender confidence that was impressive and almost solemn. Mrs. Barclay's
thoughts made a few quick gyrations; and then the door opened, and
Lois, who had left the room, came in again, followed by one of her
sisters bearing a plate of butter.

"Another beauty!" thought Mrs. Barclay, as Madge was presented to her.
"Which is which, I wonder?" This was a beauty of quite another sort.
Regular features, black hair, eyes dark and soft under long lashes, a
white brow and a very handsome mouth. But Madge had a bow of ribband in
her black hair, while Lois's red-brown masses were soft, and fluffy,
and unadorned. Madge's face lacked the loftiness, if it had the
quietness, of the other; and it had not that innocent dignity which
seemed--to Mrs. Barclay's fancy--to set Lois apart from the rest of
young women. Yet most men would admire Madge most, she thought. O
Philip, Philip! she said to herself, what sort of a mess have you
brought me into! This is no common romance you have induced me to put
my fingers in. These girls!--

But then entered a third, of a different type, and Mrs. Barclay felt
some amusement at the variety surrounding her. Miss Charity was plain,
like her grandmother; and Mrs. Armadale was not, as I have said, a
handsome old woman. She had never been a handsome young one; bony,
angular, strong, _not_ gracious; although the expression of calm sense,
and character, and the handwriting of life-work, and the dignity of
mental calm, were unmistakeable now, and made her a person worth
looking at. Charity was much younger, of course; but she had the
plainness without the dignity; sense, I am bound to say, was not
wanting.

The supper was ready, and they all sat down. The meal was excellent;
but at first very silently enjoyed. Save the words of anxious
hospitality, there were none spoken. The quicker I get acquain'ted, the
better, thought Mrs. Barclay. So she began.

"Your village looks to me like a quiet place."

"That is its character," said Mrs. Armadale.

"Especially in winter, I suppose?"

"Well, it allays was quiet, since I've known it," the old lady went on.
"They've got a hotel now for strang