"Paulina Clark! is she in Essex?"
"Yes; her mother's husband is dead, and they have come back here to live; and they say the old man left the widow a fortune; and Paulina is dressed as if it was true—all in fine bombasin, and a crape veil down to her feet, and a black bead bag, and every thing answerable; though you know she did not scruple to say she hated the old man while he was alive."
"I am sorry she behaves so unbecomingly; she was always fond of outside show, Paulina; but I remember Harry used to say that was natural, she was so handsome."
"Don't you think it strange, Susan, that some people can be so taken up with beauty?"
"Oh, I don't know; I like to look at every thing that is beautiful."
"But should you think that such a person as Harry Aikin would put beauty before every thing?"
"I don't think he does," replied Susan, keeping her eyes steadfastly to her work, and slightly blushing.
"Well, I don't know whether it is the beauty or the fortune; but it must be one or the other, or both—for I am sure, in other respects, you are far enough before Paulina Clark; and everybody thought Harry was paying attention to you before he left Essex."
"Harry was always like a brother to Charlotte and me," replied Susan, her voice a little tremulous.
"Like a brother to Charlotte he might have been; but he was more like something else to you, and everybody thought so."
