The whole truth indeed being, that the money she so earnestly solicited, was intended, not to discharge debts already incurred, but to furnish additional display both in dress and housekeeping, during the approaching visit of Colonel Hargrave to Bath, which the worldly mother hoped, till she believed, would end in a marriage between him and her eldest daughter, whose temper was becoming soured, by the failure of repeated matrimonial speculations. Mr. Villars had found it necessary to lay down a plan of economy for the following year; limiting its proposed expenditure in a manner which little suited the taste or the tactics of his family, and it, therefore, occurred to his imprudent wife, that there would be no harm in forestalling the legacy of a thousand pounds, promised by an invalid aunt, by adding another hundred to the five she had already borrowed upon it, under the impression that any present expenditure would be amply compensated if she succeeded in placing her daughter in possession of Aston, with whose broad lands she was well acquainted, though of the character, disposition, or principles of its owner, she was quite ignorant. She well knew how to work upon her sister's feelings, already enervated by grief and ill-health, and the narrow views of a selfish woman had often led her to do so; but now, as she regarded the weakness that seemed to implore protection, she felt her powers of dissimulation fast failing before these new thoughts of compunction. After all, she thought she might do without the money, the girls' old dresses were new to Hargrave, and he might be a man of simple habits, and, perhaps, would really be more attracted by white muslin, than crimson velvet--if so, she was perhaps sinning for no purpose--might she not do without the money--she might, but she had never learnt the principle of self-denial, where right and wrong is concerned; and then come second thoughts--why did she wait for them? When temptation is present, the first quick generous impulse is the safest. There is a voice in our hearts which never directs us wrong, let us listen to its least whisper. Why, like the avaricious prophet of old, are we dissatisfied with its first answer--why will we ask, and ask again, till the reply suits, not our conscience, but our desires.