“And this favour,” continued Mrs. Lupton, “I shall beg of you particularly: I would have no one put me out of this house any more till the end; for though there are so many wicked people about that want to lead me astray, I will endure everything patiently, and soon get me out of the way where no man's snares shall ravel me again.” Under the unhappy and painful circumstance of this temporary alienation of mind having thus again occurred, Mr. Lupton and Colin very properly retired from the room, leaving the unfortunate lady in the hands of her female attendants, one amongst whom was her old companion Miss Shirley. “Mary!” whispered Mrs. Lupton, as the last-named individual approached her, “I have seen Walter Lupton again, just as when he used to see me at my father's--but I am resolved I will not marry him. Men do so flatter us! And in a week after we find ourselves more lonely than before we knew anybody. This beauty is all our ruin. The pretty apple soon goes, Mary, but the crab hangs till Christmas. Oh, each a ribbon of white shall have, And a dead flower be carried before her! Then there's that Jenny Calvert too. I have loved that girl ever since she was born: she is a dear good creature, Mary,--a pretty sweet thing; but she cries just like one of the wicked, so there seems the same dish for all of us. Now, I tell her, never to marry one of Walter Lupton's friends, else we may be all alike; and I would not have her like me, not for a silver penny six times counted!” “But I understand,” replied Miss Shirley, “that he is a very worthy young man, and that Jane is deeply in love with him. She cries for what she has not--not over what she has.” “Then let her have him by all means,” answered Mrs. Lupton; “for if the girl love so much, she must be unhappy to her life's end without him; and as there is a chance that all men may not be alike, and all women not so unfortunate as I--most unfortunate--I would advise her to try that chance. I would have her happy, as she most deserves.”