Sally one like it—I think, Miss—don't you
think, Miss, it might seem unkind to wear
another just to-day?"

"Why, it is just to-day I want to make you
look like a lady, Fanny; no, no, you must not
put on that white cotton-looking shawl with
a silk dress, and this ribbon," said Isabel,
taking up the bonnet, proudly. Fanny looked
sad, but the young mistress did not see this,
for she was examining the white silk gloves,
that lay beside the bonnet. "These," thought
she, "are not quite right, they look servantish,
but my kid gloves would not fit her, besides,
I have none clean, and it is well, perhaps, that
she should have a few things to mark her
rank. Yes, they will do."

There was so much confusion between the
lady's offering help, and the maid's modestly
refusing it, that the toilette was long in
completing. At last, however, Isabel was in
ecstacies. "Look," said she, "how the bonnet
becomes you! and the Norfolk shawl, too, no
one would think you were only a lady's-maid,
Fanny. Stop, I will get a ribbon for your
throat." Off she flew, and was back again in
five minutes. "But what is that for, Fanny?
Are you afraid it will rain, this bright
morning?"

Fanny had, in Isabel's absence, folded
Thomas' shawl, and hung it across her arm.
"I thought, Miss," answered she, blushing,
"that I might just carry it, to show Thomas
that I did not forget his present, or think it
too homely to go to church with me."

"Impossible," said Isabel, who, to do her
justice, we must state, was far too much
excited to suspect that she was making Fanny
uncomfortable; "you will spoil all. There,
put the shawl away,—that's right, you look
perfect. Go down to your bridegroom, I hear
his voice in the hall, I will not come too,
though I should like above all things to see
his surprise, but I should spoil your meeting,
and I am the last person in the world to do
anything so selfish. One thing more, Fanny:
I shall give you two guineas, that you may
spend three or four days at L——, by the
seaside; no one goes home directly, you would
find it very dull to settle down at once in your
cottage; tell Thomas so." Isabel then retired
to her room, wishing heartily that she could
part with half her prettiest things, that she
might heap more favours on the interesting
little bride.

Laura's first thought that morning had
also been of the little orphan, who had served
her so long and faithfully, and whom her
father had commended to her special care.
She, too, had risen early, but without dressing
herself, she went across to Sally. Sally was
asleep, with the traces of tears on her cheeks;
Laura looked at her for a few moments, and
remembered how, when both were too young
to understand the distinction of rank, they
had been almost playmates; she wiped from
her own eyes a little moisture that dimmed
them, then putting her hand gently on Sally's
shoulder, she said, "Wake, Sally, I call you
early that you may have plenty of time to
dress me first and yourself afterwards. I
know you would not like to miss waiting on
me, or to do it hurriedly for the last time.
You have been crying, Sally, do not colour
about it, I should think ill of you if you were
not sorry to leave us, you cannot feel the
parting more than I do. I dare say I shall
have hard work to keep dry eyes all day, but
we must do our best, Sally, for it will not do
for John to think I grudge you to him, or
that you like me better than you do him."

"Oh no, Miss!" replied Sally, who felt at
that moment that she could scarcely love any
one better than her kind mistress. "Still John
will not be hard upon me for a few tears,"
added she, putting the sheet to her eyes.

"Come, come, Sally, this will not do, jump
up and dress yourself quickly, that you may
be ready to brush my hair when I return
from the dressing-room; you must do it well
to day, for you know I am not yet suited with
a maid, and must do it myself to-morrow.

This roused Sally, who dressed in great
haste and was soon at her post. Laura asked
her many questions about her plans for the
future, and found with pleasure that most
things had been well considered and arranged.
"There is only one thing, Miss," said Sally in
conclusion, "that we are sorry for, and it is
that we cannot offer old Mrs. Maythorn a
home. She has no child but John, and will
sadly feel his leaving her."

"But why cannot she live with you and
work as she does now, so as to pay you for
what she costs?"

"Why, Miss, where she is she works about
the house for her board, and does a trifle
outdoors besides, that gets her clothing. John
says it makes him feel quite cowardly, as it
were, to see his old mother working at
scrubbing and scouring, making her poor
back ache, when he is so young and strong;
yet we scarcely know if we could undertake
for her altogether. I wish we could."

"How much would it cost you?"

"A matter of four shillings a week; besides,
we must get a bed and bedding. That we
could put up in the kitchen, if we bought it
to shut up in the day-time, and, as John says,
Mrs. Maythorn would help us nicely when we
get some little ones. But it would cost a deal
of money to begin and go on with."

"I will think of this for you, Sally. It
would be easy for me to give you four
shillings a week now, but I may not always be
able to do it. I may marry a poor man, or
one who will not allow me to spend my money
as I please, and were Mrs. Maythorn to give
up her present employments, she would not
be able to get them back again three or four
years hence, nor would she, at her age, be
able to meet with others; and if you would
find it difficult to keep her now, you would
much more when you have a little family; so
we must do nothing hastily. I will consult