visits, for the appearance of the man was that of an embodied sigh and
groan.

"Really, Austin!" said Mrs. Doria, astonished to find her brother more
awake than she had supposed, "I have never allowed him to hope."

"Let him see it, then," replied the baronet; "let him see it."

"The man amuses me," said Mrs. Doria. "You know, we have few amusements
here, we inferior creatures. I confess I should like a barrel-organ
better; that reminds one of town and the opera; and besides, it plays
more than one tune. However, since you think my society bad for him, let
him stop away."

With the self-devotion of a woman she grew patient and sweet the moment
her daughter Clare was spoken of, and the business of her life in view.
Mrs. Doria's maternal heart had betrothed the two cousins, Richard and
Clare; had already beheld them espoused and fruitful. For this she
yielded the pleasures of town; for this she immured herself at Raynham;
for this she bore with a thousand follies, exactions, inconveniences,
things abhorrent to her, and heaven knows what forms of torture and self-
denial, which are smilingly endured by that greatest of voluntary
martyrs--a mother with a daughter to marry. Mrs. Doria, an amiable
widow, had surely married but for her daughter Clare. The lady's hair no
woman could possess without feeling it her pride. It was the daily theme
of her lady's-maid,--a natural aureole to her head. She was gay, witty,
still physically youthful enough to claim a destiny; and she sacrificed
it to accomplish her daughter's! sacrificed, as with heroic scissors,
hair, wit, gaiety--let us not attempt to enumerate how much! more than
may be said. And she was only one of thousands; thousands who have no