ste; and a deeper,
graver feeling was called out by his evident want of quick moral
perception. "Smart and clever," or "slow and dull," took with him the place
of "right and wrong." Little as he thought it, he was himself narrow-minded
and dull; slow and blind to perceive the beauty and eternal wisdom of
simple goodness.

Erminia and Maggie became great friends. Erminia used to beg for Maggie,
until she herself put a stop to the practice; as she saw her mother yielded
more frequently than was convenient, for the honor of having her daughter
a visitor at Mr. Buxton's, about which she could talk to her few
acquaintances who persevered in calling at the cottage. Then Erminia
volunteered a visit of some days to Maggie, and Mrs. Browne's pride was
redoubled; but she made so many preparations, and so much fuss, and gave
herself so much trouble, that she was positively ill during Erminia's stay;
and Maggie felt that she must henceforward deny herself the pleasure of
having her friend for a guest, as her mother could not be persuaded from
attempting to provide things in the same abundance and style as that to
which Erminia was accustomed at home; whereas, as Nancy shrewdly observed,
the young lady did not know if she was eating jelly, or porridge, or
whether the plates were common delf or the best China, so long as she was
with her dear Miss Maggie. Spring went, and summer came. Frank had gone to
and fro between Cambridge and Combehurst, drawn by motives of which he felt
the force, but into which he did not care to examine. Edward had sold the
property of Mr. Buxton; and he, pleased with the possession of half the
purchase money (the remainder of which was to be paid by installments), and
happy in the idea that his son came over so frequently to see Erminia, had
amply rewarded the young attorney for his services.

One summer's day, as hot as day could be, Maggie had been busy all morning;
for the weather was so sultry that she would not allow either Nancy or
her mother to exert themselves much. She had gone down with the old brown
pitcher, coeval with herself, to the spring for water; and while it was
trickling, and making a tinkling music, she sat down on the ground. The
air was so still that she heard the distant wood-pigeons cooing; and round
about her the bees were murmuring busily among the clustering heath. From
some little touch of sympathy with these low sounds of pleasant harmony,
she began to try and hum some of Ermin