Mabel instantly laid aside her heavy crape wrappings, with a blush and half a smile, as she stood as gracefully erect, as if for the artist's hand to sketch. Mrs. Noble fixed her small gimlet eyes upon her face, as if she would have read every sign which might be found there. Beauty rested in every line of her fair features--yet, few would stop to call her beautiful, even when asleep. Candid, intellectual, gentle, affectionate, high-minded, pure--any thing but beautiful. And nothing gained more upon the confidence of others, than the confiding way she seemed to have, as if she could not help believing that all were as truthful and true hearted as she was herself. "Good," said Mrs. Noble, "good, if I read that book right--I care not how soon my children learn it by heart." Mabel looked up, and light played in her eyes, and danced about her countenance. It is so pleasant to be trusted when we mean to be trustworthy. "One thing I have forgotten to mention," observed the lady, after another long pause, which she sustained with as much composure as before. "One of my little girls is a great invalid--indeed, is unable to walk, and I must stipulate for something more than common kindness to her." "I had a little sister, who could not rise in her bed," was the affectionate reply, and while her eyes moistened, the mother's filled with tears. "And when may I come to you?" enquired Mabel, a little eagerly. "I must make some little arrangements for you," replied Mrs. Noble, "otherwise I would take you with me; but you may come to me this day week, and you will then join me at Weymouth. You must come by the coach, and a servant shall be waiting to meet you, and bring you to me. Did Mr. Morley tell you that I wished you to accompany me, in a few weeks, to the south of France?" "No, ma'am; but I shall be most ready to go there." Perceiving that there was no more to be said, Mabel put on her bonnet, and, with Mr. Morley, wished her good evening. "Well," said her companion, when they were again in the street, "you have to fight the battle of life under new circumstances, that is all." "Yes, that is all," said Mabel, cheerfully, "and with many thanks for the helping hand you have given me." "I fear you will not be sufficiently tried to bring out the whole strength of your moral character, which I wish, for your sake, to see developed. She half loves you already." "I wish that were true," said Mabel, laughing. "I am not sufficiently heroic to object to anything so pleasant as that. I should be quite miserable if I could get no one to love me." "For shame!" said Mr. Morley, turning sternly upon her. "Is it not sufficient pleasure to feel that you are doing your duty." "Sufficient to make me do it, perhaps; but still, there is something so pleasant in being loved by those about us, that I would not willingly place myself in a position where it was impossible, unless called upon by some imperative duty."