"I was called upon to attend her in my pastoral office last winter, during her dangerous illness; and having good reason to think that her pillow was unsmoothed by any kind hand, I pitied her most sincerely; and when we heard she was recovering, we both visited her frequently, and without much difficulty prevailed on Mrs. Sullivan, to permit her to come to the parsonage for change of air, where my ill-natured wife nursed her for six weeks." "I think," said Mrs. Temple, "one becomes better acquainted with a person in an invalide state, than in any other; the sort of charge that the healthy take upon them for the sick, entitles them to discard much of the formality of common intercourse." "You are right, my dear; and the being that is in hourly uncertainty of its stay here, is anxious to part with its fellow mortals, not only in peace, but in love; and receives every proffered kindness with gratitude. Impressed with these feelings," continued Mr. Temple, "Miss Wildenheim suffered us to gain a knowledge of her disposition no other circumstance could have procured us.--To know and not to admire her is an impossibility!" Mrs. Sullivan, who had kept herself aloof to impress on her mind an inventory of the furniture, and to listen to the whole company at once, could no longer keep patience or restrain her indignation; and having gathered sufficient to understand that Mr. and Mrs. Temple were praising her lovely ward, she exclaimed with involuntary vehemence, "Lauk! how can you admire Miss Wildenheim, with her sallow complexion, and such a poke?" "Pardon me, Mrs. Sullivan," replied Mrs. Galton; "the only time I ever met her I thought her complexion the most beautiful brunette I ever saw: but perhaps her colour was heightened by exercise." "And her carriage"--rejoined Mrs. Temple, with less ceremony, "is grace itself!" "_Et vera incessu patuit Dea_[4]"--said the worthy rector to Mordaunt; and, as he abhorred gossips, sheered off to the window, to ask him some questions regarding his studies at Oxford. "Well, well!" resumed Mrs. Sullivan, "I loves a girl as straight as the poplars at Islington, with a good white skin, (casting a look of triumph at Cecilia); I never liked none of them there outlandish folk: why she's for all the world like a gipsy. My poor dear Mr. Sullivan didn't ought for to bring his casts-up to me and my daughters, who are come of good havage!--If she and my Carline wasn't sisters, they never would be so out of the way fond of one another. If Miss was her natural mother, she couldn't make more of her than she does now, for her father's sake: and my foolish little chit thinks this Frenchified lady a nonsuch. I'll warrant me her schooling cost a pretty penny in foreign parts, where she got that odorous twang on her tongue; howsoever, she's culpable to teach my little girl to jabber French; and, as one good turn deserves another, I takes a world of pains to teach her not to misprison her words: and would you believe