and gravity then, as if to show that the utmost splendour of the world
as represented by the satinet gown and a Paisley shawl could not make
her forget that she was mortal, or puff up her heart with unbecoming
pride.

Valentine, when a young boy, had often taken tea with Mrs. Swan,
generally by invitation, when radishes and fruit were added to the
buttered muffins.

On this occasion she gave him brown bread and butter, and some delicate
young onions, together with a cake, baked in honour of Mr. Mortimer's
wedding. Valentine thought it was only due to her that she should be
told something concerning Joseph's wedding. A man's mother does not
often care to hear of her son's love for another woman, but Valentine
expected to please Mrs. Swan on this occasion.

"Like old times to see you, sir," she said, "ain't it, Nicholas?"

Then Valentine, seated at his ease, told his story, and was aware before
it was half over that Swan was attempting to feign a surprise he did not
feel, and that Mrs. Swan was endeavouring to keep within due bounds her
expression of the surprise she did feel.

"Bless my heart!" she exclaimed, "you take this very easy, Nicholas."

Then Mr. Swan said, looking rather foolish, "Well, Maria, there's many
more wonderful things in this world to hear on than to hear that a young
man have fell in love with a young woman."

Mrs. Swan gasped. "Our Joey!" she exclaimed; "and what will Mr. Mortimer
think?"

Valentine sat, composed, and almost impassive.

"You think she likes our boy, sir?"

"I am sure of it."

"How is he ever to maintain her as she'll expect!"

"She has a thousand pounds of her own; that will help him. I have
written to him that he must settle it on her."

Here Mrs. Swan's added surprise made her thoughtful.

"She is a good, modest, virtuous young lady, as I've heerd," said Swan,
looking pointedly at Valentine, as if to admonish-him that the mother
would like to have this confirmed.

"Yes," answered Valentine, with great decision; "she is all that and
more, she is very affectionate, and has a good temper."

"Well," said Swan, drawing a deep breath, "all I have to observe is,
that wives were made afore coats of mail, though coats of female would
be more to the purpose here" (he meant coats of arms), "and," continued
the gardener, with that chivalrous feeling which lies at the very core
of gentlemanhood, "I'm not going to disparage my son, my Joey, that
would be to disparage her _c