“What a charming disposition I must have, Jane, without my knowing it!” “Yes, ma'am,” said the girl, with a pursed-up mouth, as though she would not trust herself to expatiate on the theme. “Did Colonel Sewell take Capper with him?” “No, ma'am; Mr. Capper is below. The Colonel gave him a week's leave, and he's going a-fishing with some other gentlemen down into Wicklow.” “I suspect, Jane, that you people below-stairs have the pleasantest life of all. You have little to trouble you. When you take a holiday, you can enjoy it with all your hearts.” “The gentlemen does, I believe, ma'am; but we don't. We can't go a-pleasuring like them; and if it a'n't a picnic, or a thing of the kind that's arranged for us, we have nothing for it but a walk to church and back, or a visit to one of our friends.” “So that you know what it is to be bored!” said she, sighing drearily,--“I mean to be very tired of life, and sick of everything and everybody.” “Not quite so bad as that, ma'am; put out, ma'am, and provoked at times,--not in despair, like.” “I wish I was a housemaid.” “A housemaid, ma'am!” cried the girl, in almost horror. “Well, a lady's-maid. I mean, I'd like a life where my heaviest sorrow would be a refused leave to go out, or a sharp word or two for an ill-ironed collar. See who is that at the door; there's some one tapping there the last two minutes.” “It's Miss Lucy, ma'am; she wants to know if she may come in?” Mrs. Sewell looked in the glass before which she was sitting, and as speedily passed her hands across her brow, and by the action seeming to chase away the stern expression of her eyes; then, rising up with a face all smiles, she rushed to the door and clasped Lucy in her arms, kissing her again and again, as she said, “I never dreamed of such happiness as this; but why didn't you come and awaken me? Why did you rob me of one precious moment of your presence?” “I knew how tired and worn-out you were. Grandpapa has told me of all your unwearying kindness.” “Come over to the light, child, and let me see you well. I 'm wildly jealous of you, I must own, but I 'll try to be fair and judge you honestly. My husband says you are the loveliest creature he ever saw; and I declare I 'm afraid he spoke truly. What have you done with your eyes? they are far darker than they used to be; and this hair,--you need not tell me it's all your own, child. Gold could not buy it. Yes, Jane, you are right, she _is_ perfectly beautiful.” “Oh, do not turn my head with vanity,” said Lucy, blushing. “I wish I could,--I wish I could do anything to lessen any of your fascinations. Do you know it's very hard--very hard indeed--to forgive any one being so beautiful, and hardest of all for _me_ to do so?” “Why for you?” said Lucy, anxiously.