that she desired, and was leaving the shop, Blanche, with a
smiling face, and a sweet bow to one of the shopmen, said, "Pray, sir,
will you have the kindness to show us the way to Shepherd's Inn?"

Shepherd's Inn was but a few score of yards off, Old Castle Street was
close by, the elegant young shopman pointed out the turning which the
young lady was to take, and she and her companion walked off together.

"Shepherd's Inn! what can you want in Shepherd's Inn, Miss Blanche?"
Bonner inquired. "Mr. Strong lives there. Do you want to go and see the
Captain?"

"I should like to see the Captain very well. I like the Captain; but it
is not him I want. I want to see a dear little good girl, who was very
kind to--to Mr. Arthur when he was so ill last year, and saved his life
almost; and I want to thank her and ask her if she would like anything.
I looked out several of my dresses on purpose this morning, Bonner!"
and she looked at Bonner as if she had a right to admiration, and had
performed an act of remarkable virtue. Blanche, indeed, was very fond
of sugar-plums; she would have fed the poor upon them, when she had had
enough, and given a country girl a ball-dress, when she had worn it and
was tired of it.

"Pretty girl--pretty young woman!" mumbled Mrs. Bonner. "I know I want
no pretty young women to come about Lightfoot," and in imagination she
peopled the Clavering Arms with a harem of the most hideous chambermaids
and barmaids.

Blanche, with pink and blue, and feathers, and flowers, and trinkets
(that wondrous invention, a chatelaine, was not extant yet, or she would
have had one, we may be sure), and a shot-silk dress, and a wonderful
mantle, and a charming parasol, presented a vision of elegance and
beauty such as bewildered the eyes of Mrs. Bolton, who was scrubbing the
lodge-floor of Shepherd's Inn and caused Betsy-Jane and Ameliar-Ann to
look with delight.

Blanche looked on them with a smile of ineffable sweetness and
protection; like Rowena going to see Rebecca; like Marie Antoinette
visiting the poor in the famine; like the Marchioness of Carabas
alighting from her carriage-and-four at a pauper-tenant's door, and
taking from John No II. the packet of Epsom salts for the
invalid's benefit, carrying it with her own imperial hand into the
sick-room--Blanche felt a queen stepping down from her throne to visit a
subject, and enjoyed all the bland consciousness of doing a good action.

"My good woman! I want to