I replied that I had dipped into it, and added: "But, before we discuss Macaulay, I want you to tell me how you learned to be so accomplished a tailoress?"
"Rebecca can do anything she wishes," said her mother, in a soft, gentle voice, "the heart is a good teacher."
"Thank you, mother," rejoined the sweet girl, "Colonel Lunettes will make allowance for your natural partiality."
"I would, were it necessary, my dear," I answered, "but I can decide for myself in your case."
A bow, a blush, and a pleasant laugh responded, and, rising, she deposited the heavy garment she had been repairing, upon the arm of a chair, and immediately reseating herself, placed a large basket full of woollen stockings, at her side, threaded a stout alderman-like-looking darning needle with thick yarn, and began to mend a formidable hole in one of the socks. Her brother is an engineer, and I divined at a glance, that those strong, warm things were, like the blanket-coat, part of his outfit for a campaign in the swamps.
"I am delighted with Macaulay's elaborate sketches of individuals," resumed the busy seamstress, drawing out her long needle and thread, and returning it with the speed and accuracy of nicely-adjusted machinery; "do you recollect his portraiture of the Trimmer?"
"It is very fine," I answered, like everything else Macaulay has written. "Nothing, however, has impressed me more, thus far, in his history, than his description of the condition of the clergy of the Established Church, in the rural districts, during the reign of James, and later even."
"I, too, was exceedingly interested in it," replied Rebecca. "And the more, that I was reminded of the fate of the daughters of English country curates, even at this day; of 'gentle blude,' many times, born and educated ladies, they are subjected, frequently, through life, to toil and suffering that would excuse their envying the fate of a mere kitchen-drudge!"
"They are, usually, governesses for life, and never marry," continued I.
"Never marry—though they are so educated and disciplined, as to be peculiarly well-fitted for the fulfillment of woman's dearest and highest destiny! Thank God! I was born where such social thraldom, such hateful monstrosities, are not!" And the face that turned its glance upward, for an instant, with those last fervent words, was overspread with a glow bright as the crimson hue of sunset.