towards the fulfilment of her promises than
call frequently on Fanny, to remind her that
all her present arrangements were temporary,
and that she should shortly have almost
everything new.

"Good bye, Fanny," said she at parting;
"I shall often write to you, and send you
money. I will not make any distinct promise,
for I daresay I shall be able to do more than
I should like to say now."

Laura had given Sally a great many useful
things for her cottage, but made no promise
at parting. She said, "Be sure you write to
me, Sally, from time to time, to say how you
are going on, and tell me if you want help."

When Isabel was gone, Fanny saw that she
must accustom herself to her cottage as it
was, and banish from her mind the idea of
the long-anticipated improvements. It was,
however, no easy task. The window once
regarded as bare and comfortless still seemed
so, in spite of Fanny's reasoning that it was
no worse than Sally's, which always looked
cheerful and pretty. To be sure, John, who
did not think of getting curtains, had trained
a honeysuckle over it, still that made but
little show at present. The carpet, too, so
long regarded as a coarse temporary thing,
never regained the beauty it first had to the
eye of Thomas, as he laid it down the evening
before he took Fanny to the cottage; and
Fanny could never forget, as she arranged her
tea-things, that Miss Isabel had called them
"common little things;" so of all the other
pieces of furniture that the young lady had
remarked upon. Sally's house was, in reality,
more homely than her cousin's, yet as she had
never entertained a wish that it should be
better, and as Laura had been pleased with
all its arrangements, she bustled about it with
perfect satisfaction; and even to Fanny it
seemed replete with the comfort her own had
always wanted.

At the end of three months Isabel enclosed
an order for three pounds to Fanny, desiring
her to get a Brussels carpet, and if there was
a sufficient remainder, to replace the tea-set.

"I would rather," said Fanny to her cousin,
"put up with the old carpet and china, and
get a roll of fine flannel, some coals, an extra
blanket or two, and a cradle for the little one
that's coming, for it will be cold weather when
I am put to bed; but I suppose as Miss Isabel
has set her mind on the carpet and china, I
must get them."

A week or two after John was invited, with
his wife and mother, to drink tea from Fanny's
new china. It was very pretty, so was the
carpet, and so was Fanny making tea, elated
with showing her new wealth.

"Is not Miss Isabel generous?" asked she,
as she held the milk-pot to be admired.

"I sometimes wish Miss Laura had as much
money to spare," replied Sally; "for she lets
me lay it out as I please, and I could get a
number of things for three guineas."

"Fie, Sally," said her husband; "are not
three shillings to spend as one pleases, better
than three guineas laid out to please some one
else?"

"Nonsense, John," said Fanny, pettishly;
"how can a carpet for my kitchen be bought
to please any one but me?"

"John isn't far wrong either," answered
her husband; "but the carpet is very handsome,
and does please you and me too, now it
is here."

Time passed on, and Fanny gave birth to a
little girl. Isabel stood sponsor for her by
proxy, sending her an embroidered cloak and
lace cap, and desiring that she should be called
by her own name. Little Bella was very
sickly, and as her mother had not been able
to procure her good warm clothing, or lay in
a large stock of firing, she suffered greatly
from cold during the severe winter that
followed her birth. The spring and summer did
not bring her better health; and as Fanny
always attributed her delicacy to the want of
proper warmth in her infancy, she took a
great dislike to the Brussels carpet, which
now lay in a roll behind a large chest, having
been long ago taken up as a piece of
inconvenient luxury in a kitchen. "I wish you
could find a corner for it in your cottage,
Sally," said she, "for I never catch a sight of
it without worrying myself to think how much
flannels and coals I might have bought with
the money it cost."

Laura frequently sent Sally small presents
of money, but Isabel, though not so regular
as her sister, surprised every one by the
splendour of her presents, when they did come.
As Bella entered her second year, she received
from her godmother a beautiful little carriage,
which Thomas said must have "spoilt a five-
pound note." This was Isabel's last gift, for
it was at about this time that she accepted an
offer from a French count, and became so
absorbed in her own affairs, that she forgot
Fanny and Bella too. Poor Bella grew more
and more sickly every month; the apothecary
ordered her beef tea, arrowroot, and other
strengthening diet, but work was slack with
Thomas, and it was with difficulty that he
could procure her the commonest food. "I
am sure," said Fanny to her cousin, as little
Bella was whining on her knee, "that if only
Miss Isabel were here, she would set us all
right. She never could bear to see even a
stranger in distress."

"I wish," said Thomas, "that great folks
would think a little of what they don't see.
I'll lay anything Miss Isabel gives away a
deal of money, more than enough to save our
little one, to a set of French impostors that
cry after her in the street, and yet, when she
knows our child is ill, she never cares, because
she can't see it grow thin, or hear it cry."

"For shame, Thomas," said his wife, "do
not speak so rudely of the young lady. Have
you forgotten the pretty carriage she sent
Bella, and how pleased we were when it
came?"