"My love, she is so sensible, let her go her own way."

"You are right, my dear Betsy; I shall always say that no one has more
common-sense than you; you have brought up your children admirably!"

"Dear Charles!"

"It is coldish to-night, love," said the rector; and he put out the
candle.

From that time, it was not the fault of Mr. and Mrs. Merton if Lord
Doltimore did not find their house the pleasantest in the county.

One evening the rectory party were assembled together in the cheerful
drawing-room. Cleveland, Mr. Merton, Sir John, and Lord Vargrave,
reluctantly compelled to make up the fourth, were at the whist-table;
Evelyn, Caroline, and Lord Doltimore were seated round the fire, and Mrs.
Merton was working a footstool. The fire burned clear, the curtains were
down, the children in bed: it was a family picture of elegant comfort.

Mr. Maltravers was announced.

"I am glad you are come at last," said Caroline, holding out her fair
hand. "Mr. Cleveland could not answer for you. We are all disputing as
to which mode of life is the happiest."

"And your opinion?" asked Maltravers, seating himself in the vacant
chair,--it chanced to be next to Evelyn's.

"My opinion is decidedly in favour of London. A metropolitan life, with