daughters, were as liberal of their charms as the nature of the dress
might permit. To this, the well-known style of the period, the features
and form of the individual added, at first sight, little interest. It
represented a handsome woman of about thirty, her hair wound simply
about her head, her features regular, and her complexion fair. But on
looking more closely, especially after having had a hint that the
original had been the heroine of a tale, I could observe a melancholy
sweetness in the countenance that seemed to speak of woes endured, and
injuries sustained, with that resignation which women can and do
sometimes display under the insults and ingratitude of those on whom
they have bestowed their affections.

"Yes, she was an excellent and an ill-used woman," said Mr. Fairscribe,
his eye fixed like mine on the picture--"She left our family not less, I
dare say, than five thousand pounds, and I believe she died worth four
times that sum; but it was divided among the nearest of kin, which was
all fair."

"But her history, Mr. Fairscribe," said I--"to judge from her look, it
must have been a melancholy one."

"You may say that, Mr. Croftangry. Melancholy enough, and extraordinary
enough too--But," added he, swallowing in haste a cup of the tea which
was presented to him, "I must away to my business--we cannot be gowfling
all the morning, and telling old stories all the afternoon. Katie knows
all the outs and the ins of cousin Menie's adventures as well as I do,
and when she has given you the particulars, then I am at your service,
to condescend more articulately upon dates or particulars."

Well, here was I, a gay old bachelor, left to hear a love tale from my