lover, and her father's subsequent harshness to her favourite
child broke the mother's heart. Sarah not only had less firmness of
character than her sister, but loved her father more devotedly, and
gave up the affection of her young heart to please him. His narrow
nature could not understand the sacrifice: and when her cheek faded,
and her really beautiful face contracted into the painful expression
of that pining melancholy which has neither words nor tears--to lull
his sympathy, he muttered to himself, "good girl, _she_ shall have
_all_ I have."

No human passion grows with so steady, so imperceptible, yet so
rampant a growth as avarice. It takes as many shapes as Proteus,
and may be called, above all others, the vice of middle life, that
soddens into the gangrene of old age; gaining strength by vanquishing
all virtues and generous emotions, it is a creeping, sly, keen,
persevering, insidious sin, assuming various forms, to cheat even
itself; for it shames to name itself unto itself; a cowardly,
darkness-loving sin, never daring to look human nature in the face;
full of lean excuses for self-imposed starvation, only revelling
in the impurity and duskiness of its own shut-up heart. At last the
joy-bells ring its knell, while it crawls into eternity like a vile
reptile, leaving a slimy track upon the world.

The inmates of the mansion enclosed in its old court-yard had long
ceased to attract the observation of their neighbours. Sometimes
Sarah called at the butcher's, but she exchanged smiles or greetings
with few; and the baker rang the rusty bell twice a-week, which was
answered by their only servant. When Mr. Bond first took possession
of the manor-house, he hired five domestics, and everybody said they
could not do with so few; and there were two men to look after the