But I beg pardon for prating at this rate, more especially when I am so old as to have forgot all the little I ever knew about such things.” “But you have the best right in the world to speak about such things, and your grand-daughter has the best reason in the world to listen to you,” said Lady Anne, “because, in spite of all the crosses of fortune, you have been an excellent and happy wife, at least ever since I can remember.” “And ever since I can remember, that’s more; no offence to your ladyship,” said the old man, striking his crutch against the ground. “Ever since I can remember, she has made me the happiest man in the whole world, in the whole parish, as every body knows, and I best of all!” cried he, with a degree of enthusiasm that lighted up his aged countenance, and animated his feeble voice. “And yet,” said the honest dame, “if I had followed my fancy, and taken up with my first love, it would not ha’ been with _he_, Lucy. I had a sort of a fancy (since my lady’s so good as to let me speak), I had a sort of a fancy for an idle young man; but he, very luckily for me, took it into his head to fall in love with another young woman, and then I had leisure enough left me to think of your grandfather, who was not so much to my taste like at first. But when I found out his goodness and cleverness, and joined to all, his great tenderness for me, I thought better of it, Lucy (as who knows but you may do, though there shall not be a word said on my part to press you, for poor Jackson?); and my thinking better is the cause why I have been so happy ever since, and am so still in my old age. Ah, Lucy! dear, what a many years that same old age lasts, after all! But young folks, for the most part, never think what’s to come after thirty or forty at farthest. But I don’t say this for you, Lucy; for you are a good girl, and a sensible girl, though my own grand-daughter, as I said before, and therefore won’t be run away with by fancy, which is soon past and gone: but make a prudent choice, that you won’t never have cause to repent of. But I’ll not say a word more; I’ll leave it all to yourself and James Jackson.” “You do right,” said Lady Anne: “good morning to you! Farewell, Lucy! That’s a pretty necklace, and is very becoming to you--fare ye well!” She hurried out of the cottage with Belinda, apprehensive that the talkative old dame might weaken the effect of her good sense and experience by a farther profusion of words. “One would think,” said Belinda, with an ingenuous smile, “that this lesson upon the dangers of _fancy_ was intended for me: at any rate, I may turn it to my own advantage!” “Happy those who can turn all the experience of others to their own advantage!” said Lady Anne: “this would be a more valuable privilege than the power of turning every thing that is touched to gold.”