Edith Stanhope, as we have hitherto intimated, was a bright, witty
English girl, and her companionship was healthful and invigorating.
She admired the gentle, winning, child-like ways of the New
Brunswick maiden, and together they formed a pretty picture.
Mr. Stanhope had been a widower for many years, his household
affairs being managed by a maiden sister, whose affection for the
child Edith increased as the latter grew to womanhood, and nowhere
could be found a more peaceful, inviting and cosy little nest than
that of the much esteemed and venerable lawyer--Charles Stanhope, of
Cheapside.
Edith Stanhope had reached the age of twenty-one, and still "in
maiden meditation fancy free." Her life was an undisturbed and
peaceful dream--her days an enjoyable round of simple domestic
pleasure, broken in upon now and then by a few of the young
schoolmates or companions of her childhood.
How keenly Marguerite then felt the difference of their respective
positions as she glanced up from the newspaper and saw the real
happiness that shone so steadily upon the girl's countenance, while
she, wearied with the gaieties of life, was yearning--oh! so
longingly--for the real domestic happiness that she must never
realize.
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