"Earth--earth--earth," said Mr. Morley, stopping at the door in Sydney Place, "clinging every where--mixing with every thing." "Oh, do not be angry with me," said Mabel, "for such a little fault." "Oh, earth, earth," he repeated, even when the door opened, "your spirit is every where." And turning away, spite of everything she said, he went off down the street, repeating still between his teeth--"Earth--earth--earth." CHAPTER VII. It hath done its sacred mission Sorrow's hand was sent to cure, Bless it for the bitter anguish Thou wert called on to endure. CULVER ALLEN. "Only one week," thought Maria, "and the house will be cleared of a nuisance; but I must play my cards well for this one week, short as it is, or my game will be lost." She was standing in the drawing-room as she said this, dangling her bonnet by one string, for she had just come in from their afternoon's walk in the park, and from busy, shopping, fascinating Milsom Street. "Let me only keep things right for one week," she continued, to herself, "and I have him; but I fear it is but a desperate chance." She was interrupted in these meditations by a brisk rapping at the street-door, and, very soon afterwards, Mr. Stokes made his appearance, and Maria's quick eye immediately saw signs of a proposal in the carefully arranged morning costume, and the very precise tie of his cravat, though, that the same proposal would not be meant for her, she saw with equal readiness. His first enquiry was--"Whether it was quite true that Miss Lesly was about to leave them?" "How tiresome," said Maria, "then I suppose every one knows it; and yet we have been so anxious to keep it private." Here she looked much vexed. "What has gone wrong, then?" enquired the Squire. "Oh, nothing," said Maria, in a tone which implied everything had. "It is true, we are obliged to send her away; but there is no use making a talk about it. It is no business of anybody's, is it?" "Oh, dear no," said the Squire, nervously. "I should think one's poor relations might be sent to their native obscurity, without everybody's taking it up," added Maria. "Yes--but she seems so sweet-tempered. I should have thought her a great acquisition to your family party." "You do not really mean to say you think so?" said she, looking as if she would say--"I know you are a better judge than that"--"She is sweet in company, I know--but in private she is as haughty as a young duchess--She even finds fault with mamma. She comes of a good family, certainly; but, I fear, she is something like the dregs of the cask, only a little bit turned sour." Mr. Stokes began whipping his boots, as if greatly annoyed at the dust upon them. "Oh, dear," said Maria; "let me get you a duster." She instantly sprang to an old arm-chair, and bringing one from its secret recesses, began dusting his boots, upon her knees, before he had time to prevent her.