's favourite,--and now
had come this beautiful arrangement about Cropper and Burgess, which
would save her from being carried away to live among strangers in
London! When she first became known to us on her coming to Exeter,
in compliance with her aunt's suggestion, she was timid, silent,
and altogether without self-reliance. Even they who knew her best
had never guessed that she possessed a keen sense of humour, a nice
appreciation of character, and a quiet reticent wit of her own, under
that staid and frightened demeanour. Since her engagement with Brooke
Burgess it seemed to those who watched her that her character had
become changed, as does that of a flower when it opens itself in its
growth. The sweet gifts of nature within became visible, the petals
sprang to view, and the leaves spread themselves, and the sweet scent
was felt upon the air. Had she remained at Nuncombe, it is probable
that none would ever have known her but her sister. It was necessary
to this flower that it should be warmed by the sun of life, and
strengthened by the breezes of opposition, and filled by the showers
of companionship, before it could become aware of its own loveliness.
Dorothy was one who, had she remained ever unseen in the retirement
of her mother's village cottage, would have lived and died ignorant
of even her own capabilities for enjoyment. She had not dreamed that
she could win a man's love,--had hardly dreamed till she had lived at
Exeter that she had love of her own to give back in return. She had
not known that she could be firm in her own opinion, that she could
laugh herself and cause others to laugh, that she could be a lady and
know that other women were not so, that she had good looks of her own
and could be very happy when told of them by lips that she loved. The
flower that blows the quickest is never the sweetest. The fruit that
ripens tardily has ever the finest flavour. It is often the same with
men and women. The lad who talks at twenty as men should talk at
thirty, has seldom much to say worth the hearing when he is forty;
and the girl who at eighteen can shine in society with composure, has
generally given over shining before she is a full-grown woman. With
Dorothy the scent and beauty of the flower, and the flavour of the
fruit, had come late; but the fruit will keep, and the flower will
not fall to pieces with the heat of an evening.

"How marvellously your bride has changed since she has been here,"
said