proposed taking her over the house, which was old, and worthy of
inspection. In their progress they came to a door at the end of a long
and rather tortuous passage. Sir Wilton did not know how the room was
occupied, or he would doubtless have passed it by; but as its windows
gave a fine view of the park, he opened the door, and lady Ann entered.
Sudden displeasure shortened her first step; pride or something worse
lengthened the next, as she bore down on a woman too much occupied with a
child on her knee to look up at the sound of her entrance. When, a moment
after, she did look up, the dreaded stepmother was looking straight down
on her baby. Their eyes encountered. Jane met an icy stare, and lady Ann
a gaze of defiance--an expression by this time almost fixed on the face
of the nurse, for in her spirit she heard every unspoken remark on her
child. Not a word did the lady utter, but to Jane, her eyes, her very
breath seemed to say with scorn, "Is _that_ the heir?" Sir Wilton did not
venture a single look: he was ashamed of his son, and already a little
afraid of his wife, whom he had once seen close her rather large teeth
in a notable way. As she turned toward the window, however, he stole
a glance at his offspring: the creature was not quite so ugly as
before--not quite so repulsive as he had pictured him! But, good heavens!
he was on the lap of the same woman whose fierceness had upset him almost
as much as his child's ugliness! He walked to the window after his wife.
She gazed for a moment, turned with indifference, and left the room. Her
husband followed her. A glance of fear, dislike, and defiance, went after
them from Jane.

Stronger contrast than those two women it would be hard to find. Jane's
countenance was almost coarse, but its rugged outline was almost grand.
Her hair grew low down on her forehead, and she had deep-set eyes. Her
complexion was rough, her nose large and thick. Her mouth was large also,
but, when unaffected by her now almost habitual antagonism, the curve of