"I am only waiting to undress you, mamma," said Mabel, "you are so much later to-night, that I thought you would be tired. I have been lying on your sofa, half asleep, for more than an hour. Have you been talking of me?" she added, lowering her voice. "Yes, a little," replied Mrs. Lesly; "but why do you ask, what can any one say ill of you." Mabel sighed. "I talked of you, dear, not merely to satisfy my sister's curiosity; but, because there is in the world a very strong prejudice against single ladies, old maids, as they are termed, in contempt, when there is no good reason given for their not marrying. It is a foolish prejudice, but still a strong one; and, therefore, I would rather that people knew why you are not married; at least, that all those who have any right to criticise your conduct, should know that it has been by your own choice." "Ah, mamma," said Mabel, "you are thinking of my feelings as they would once have been." "And as they may be again," said the mother; "but not as they ought to be, I allow. But you bear your trial so well, love, that I would not have it increased by one unkind, or worldly remark. You have done right, and can, therefore, afford to suffer; yet there is no harm in sparing yourself any needless pain. Go to sleep, now, my child, I do not wish to see you tired, to-morrow." Mabel retired to her own room, with feelings stirred up, she scarce knew why, by the arrival of their new guests, and she would willingly have thought awhile in silence, but Amy was awake, and restless. "What time is it, Mabel, dear," for by that affectionate title, she usually addressed her. "Past one o'clock, dear," said Mabel; "are you awake, still." "I have been to sleep, once," said Amy; "but I was dreaming all the time, first of Lucy, and then about Captain Clair, and the blackberries. You said she would not like me quite at first, but she seems to love you in one evening--how is that?" "I really do not know; Lucy puzzles me, rather, but she says she likes, or dislikes, quickly." "But that is what you tell me not to do," said Amy, sitting up in her bed, as if prepared for a regular discussion of the subject. "Yes," said Mabel, "because I am afraid you will not choose your friends well, and may be mistaken if you judge too quickly." "Well," said Amy, gravely; "I suppose Lucy is clever to find you out so soon, but it puzzles me to think how she could tell you were good, in one evening." "I do not think she does know much about me, yet," said Mabel; "but do not let us think of her just now, for if we never think of ourselves at any other time, I think we should before we go to sleep. So, now you must not talk any more." Mabel then turned her pillow, smoothed the hair back from her heated cheeks, and made her comfortable, so that Amy, having no further excuse for keeping awake, soon fell asleep.