or Brown! How was it that in speaking of his troubles we were led on
to this heart-stirring theme? Yes, I have seen them, the sweet angels;
and I tell you also that I have seen their mother. I insisted on going
to her when I heard her history from him."

"And what was she like, Mrs. Talboys?"

"Well, education has done more for some of us than for others, and there
are those from whose morals and sentiments we might thankfully draw a
lesson, whose manners and outward gestures are not such as custom has
made agreeable to us. You, I know, can understand that. I have seen her,
and feel sure that she is pure in heart and high in principle. Has she
not sacrificed herself, and is not self-sacrifice the surest guarantee
for true nobility of character? Would Mrs. Mackinnon object to my
bringing them together?"

Mackinnon was obliged to declare that he thought his wife would object,
and from that time forth he and Mrs. Talboys ceased to be very close
in their friendship. She still came to the house every Sunday evening,
still refreshed herself at the fountains of his literary rills, but her
special prophecies from henceforth were poured into other ears; and it
so happened that O'Brien now became her chief ally. I do not remember
that she troubled herself much further with the cherub angels or with
their mother, and I am inclined to think that, taking up warmly as she
did the story of O'Brien's matrimonial wrongs, she forgot the little
history of the Browns. Be that as it may, Mrs. Talboys and O'Brien now
became strictly confidential, and she would enlarge by the half-hour
together on the miseries of her friend's position to any one whom she
could get to hear her.

"I'll tell you what, Fanny," Mackinnon said to his wife one day--to his
wife and to mine, for we were all together--"we shall have a row in
the house if we don't take care. O'Brien will be making love to Mrs.
Talboys."

"Nonsense," said Mrs. Mackinnon; "you are always thinking that somebody
is going to make love to some one."

"Somebody always is," said he.

"She's old enough to be his mother," said Mrs. Mackinnon.

"What does that matter to an Irishman?" said Mackinnon. "Besides, I
doubt if there is more than five years' difference between them."

"There must be more than that," said my wife. "Ida Talboys is twelve, I
know, and I am not quite sure that Ida is the eldest."

"If she had a son in the Guards it would make no difference," said
Mackinnon. "There