[CHAPTER V.]
Whence then that peace
So dovelike? settling o'er a soul that loved
Earth and its treasures? Whence that angel smile
With which the allurements of a world so dear
Were counted and resigned?
Mrs. Sigourney.
Mabel and Lucy retired that night early, in order that they might leave the sisters time to talk quietly over the fire, which a chilly evening rendered not unwelcome.
Mrs. Villars placed her feet on the fender, and turning up her dress to prevent the fire injuring it, she made herself perfectly comfortable in preparation for a long chat. Mrs. Lesly had seated herself opposite in her arm-chair, with a glass of lemonade on a small table by her side, which she sipped from time to time, as she listened to long accounts of her sister's hopes and fears for her children's welfare, together with various anecdotes, tending to show the admiration they excited wherever they appeared. At length, these long and varied narrations came to an end—and Mrs. Villars, turning to her sister, enquired, in a tone which seemed to say, confidence claimed confidence, if there had not been some story about Mabel's marrying.
A very sensible feeling of pain passed for an instant over Mrs. Lesly's countenance before she replied—
"Yes, but that was a long time ago, and I cannot bear to think of it now."
"But," said Mrs. Villars, who always peculiarily interested herself in anything relative to marriage, "you never told me the particulars, and I should so like to know them."