are almost as bad as politics, they make people so cross."

Then she rose and explained her visit to Mrs. de Noël.

"But, Mr. Lyndsay," said Mrs. Mostyn, "are you going to desert the old
woman for the young one, or are you going to stay and see my gardens and
have tea? That is right. Good-bye, my dearest Jane. Give my dear love to
Cissy, and tell her to come over and see me--but I shall have a glimpse
of her on your way back."

"I hope Mrs. de Noël may be persuaded to come back," I said, as the
carriage drove off, and we walked along a gravel path by lawns of velvet
smoothness; "I would so much like to meet her."

"Have you never met her? Dear Cecilia! She is a sweet creature--the
sweetest, I think, I ever met, though perhaps I ought not to say so of
my own niece. She wants but one thing--the grace of God."

We passed into a little wood, tapestried with ivy, carpeted with
clustering primroses, and she continued--

"It is most mysterious. Both Cecilia and George, being left orphans so
early, were brought up by my dear sister Henrietta. She was a believing
Christian, and no children ever had greater religious advantages than
these two. As soon as they could speak they learnt hymns or texts of
Scripture, and before they could read they knew whole chapters of the
Bible by heart. George even now, I will say that for him, knows his
Bible better than a good many clergymen. And the Sabbath, too. They were
taught to reverence the Lord's day in a way children never are nowadays.
All games and picture-books put away on Saturday night; regularly to