her hair, of which she could boast. Very few had ever cared for poor
Mabel, who, though warm-hearted and affectionate, required to be
known in order to be appreciated, and as she was naturally shy and
retiring, there were not many who felt at all acquainted with her.
Left alone in the world at a very early age, she had never known what
it was to possess a real, disinterested friend, unless we except
Nellie Douglass, who, while there was nothing congenial between them,
had always tried to treat Mabel as she herself would wish to be
treated, were she in like circumstances.

Many had professed friendship for the sake of the gain which they
knew would accrue, for she was generous to a fault, bestowing with a
lavish hand upon those whom she loved, and who had too often proved
false, denouncing her as utterly spiritless and insipid. So often
had she been deceived, that now, at the age of eighteen, she had
learned to distrust her fellow creatures, and oftentimes in secret
would she weep bitterly over her lonely condition, lamenting the
plain face and unattractive manners, which she fancied rendered her
an object of dislike. Still there was about her a depth of feeling
of which none had ever dreamed, and it only required a skillful hand
to mold her into an altogether different being. She was, perhaps,
too easily influenced, for in spite of her distrust, a pleasant word
or kind look would win her to almost anything.

Of this weakness Mrs. Livingstone seemed well aware, and for the
better accomplishment of her plan, she deemed it necessary that Mabel
should believe her to be the best friend she had in the world.
Accordingly, she now flattered and petted her, calling her "darling,"
and "dearest," and urging her to stop at Maple Grove, until she
consented, "provided Nellie Douglas were willing."