others. A pretty girl was Patience Woolsworthy at the time of which I
am writing, and one who possessed much that was worthy of remark and
admiration, had she lived where beauty meets with admiration, or where
force of character is remarked. But at Oxney Colne, on the borders of
Dartmoor, there were few to appreciate her, and it seemed as though she
herself had but little idea of carrying her talent further afield, so
that it might not remain for ever wrapped in a blanket.

She was a pretty girl, tall end slender, with dark eyes and black hair.
Her eyes were perhaps too round for regular beauty, and her hair was
perhaps too crisp; her mouth was large and expressive; her nose was
finely formed, though a critic in female form might have declared it to
be somewhat broad. But her countenance altogether was wonderfully
attractive--if only it might be seen without that resolution for
dominion which occasionally marred it, though sometimes it even added
to her attractions.

It must be confessed on behalf of Patience Woolsworthy, that the
circumstances of her life had peremptorily called upon her to exercise
dominion. She had lost her mother when she was sixteen, and had had
neither brother nor sister. She had no neighbours near her fit either
from education or rank to interfere in the conduct of her life,
excepting always Miss La Smyrger. Miss Le Smyrger would have done
anything for her, including the whole management of her morals and of
the parsonage household, had Patience been content with such an
arrangement. But much as Patience had ever loved Miss Le Smyrger, she
was not content with this, and therefore she had been called on to put
forth a strong hand of her own. She had put forth this strong hand
early, and hence had come the character which I am attempting to
describe. But I must say on behalf of this girl, that it was not only