though quiet in his way of showing it, he is so affectionate in his
disposition. Walter is passionate and fickle, condescending to those he
loves, but treating with a proud indifference every one else. I wonder he
does not go abroad, he has the command of his fortune now, and here he can
never be happily situated; no woman of delicacy would ever think of
marrying him with that stain on his birth."

"How beautiful his mother was, Cousin Janet!" said Mr. Weston. "I have
never seen more grace and refinement. I often look at Walter, and recall
her, with her beautiful brown hair and blue eyes. How short her course was,
too! I think she died at eighteen."

"Do tell me about her, uncle," said Alice.

"Cousin Janet can, better than I, my darling. Have you never told Alice her
history, cousin?"

"No, it is almost too sad a tale for Alice's ear, and there is something
holy, in my mind, in the recollection of the sorrows of that young person.
I believe she was a wife, though an unacknowledged one. If the grave would
give up its secrets--but it will, it will--the time will come for justice
to all, even to poor Ellen Haywood.

"That young creature was worse than an orphan, for her father, thriving in
business at one time, became dissipated and reckless. Ellen's time was her
own; and after her mother's death her will was uncontrolled. Her education
was not good enough to give her a taste for self-improvement. She had a
fine mind, though, and the strictest sense of propriety and dignity. Her
remarkable beauty drew towards her the attention of the young men of her
own class, as well as those of good family; but she was always prudent.