her little harmless feminine weaknesses; but you could not help feeling
in her presence that you were with an affectionate, warm-hearted, honest,
good woman. She might not have the refinements of tone and manner which
stamp the high-bred gentlewoman of convention; she might evince the
deficiencies of an imperfect third-rate education: but she was saved from
vulgarity by a certain undefinable grace or person and music of voice,--
even when she said or did things that well-bred people do not say or do;
and there was an engaging intelligence in those quick hazel eyes that
made you sure that she was sensible, even when she uttered what was
silly.

Mrs. Haughton turned from the interior of the room to the open window.
She is on the look-out for her son, who has gone to call on Colonel
Morley, and who ought to be returned by this time. She begins to get a
little fidgety, somewhat cross. While thus standing and thus watchful,
there comes thundering down the street a high-stepping horse, bay, with
white legs; it whirls on a cabriolet,--blue, with vermilion wheels; two
hands, in yellow kid gloves, are just seen under the hood. Mrs. Haughton
suddenly blushes and draws in her head. Too late! the cabriolet has
stopped; a gentleman leans forward, takes off his hat, bows respectfully.
"Dear, dear!" murmurs Mrs. Haughton, "I do think he is going to call:
some people are born to be tempted; my temptations have been immense! He
is getting out; he knocks; I can't say, now, that I am not at home,--very
awkward! I wish Lionel were here! What does he mean, neglecting his own
mother, and leaving her a prey to tempters?"

While the footman is responding to the smart knock of the visitor,
we will explain how Mrs. Haughton had incurred that gentleman's
acquaintance. In one of her walks to her new house while it was in
the hands of the decorators, her mind being much absorbed in the