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But this ungenerous and treacherous conduct excited such strong indignation in the usually gentle Fanny, that she could not help expressing her sentiments concerning it: and by that means made them the more eager to betray her into offending their unsuspicious friend. They therefore asked Fanny, in her presence, one day, whether their dear guest did not dress most becomingly?

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The poor girl made sundry sheepish and awkward contortions, now looking down, and then looking up ;-unable to lie, yet afraid to tell the truth." Why do you not reply, Fanny?" said the artful questioner. "Is she not well dressed ?"—"Not in my opinion,' faltered out the distressed girl. "And pray, Miss Barnwell," said the old lady," what part of my dress do you disapprove?" After a pause, Fanny took courage to reply, "all of it, madam.”—“ Why? do you think it too young for me?"—“I do.” “A plain-spoken young person that!" she observed in a tone of pique!—while the Livingstones exclaimed, impertinent! ridiculous! and Fanny was glad to leave the room, feeling excessive pain at having been forced to wound the feelings of one whom she wished to be permitted to love, because she had once been her mother's dearest friend. After this scene, the Livingstones, partly from the love of mischief, and partly from the love of fun, used to put similar questions to Fanny, in the old lady's presence, till, at last, displeased and indignant at her bluntness and ill-breeding, she scarcely noticed or spoke to her. In the meanwhile, Cecilia Livingstone became an object of increasing interest to her; for she had a lover to whom she was greatly attached, but who would not be in a situation to marry for many years,

This young man was frequently at the house, and was as polite and attentive to the old lady, when she was present, as the rest of the family; but, like them, he was ever ready to indulge in a laugh at her credulous simplicity, and especially at her continually expressing her belief, as well as her hopes, that they were all beginning to think less of the present world, and more of the next; and as Lawrie, as well as the Livingstones, possessed no inconsiderable power of mimickry, they exercised them with great effect on the manner and tones of her whom they called the over-dressed saint, unrestrained, alas! by the consciousness that she was their present, and would, as they expected, be their future benefactress.

That confiding and unsuspecting being was, meanwhile, considering that, though her health was injured by a long residence in a warm climate, she might still live many years; and that, as Cecilia might not therefore possess the fortune which she had bequeathed to her till "youth and genial years were flown," it would be better to give it to her during her life-time. "I will do so," she said to herself (tears rushing into her eyes as she thought of the happiness which

she was going to impart,) "and then the young people can marry directly!"

She took this resolution one day when the Livingstones believed that she had left her home on a visit. Consequently, having no expectation of seeing her for some time, they had taken advantage of her long vainly-expected absence to make some engagements which they knew she would have excessively disapproved. But though, as yet, they knew it not, the old lady had been forced to put off her visit; a circumstance which she did not at all regret, as it enabled her to go sooner on her benevolent errand.

The engagement of the Livingstones for that day was a rehearsal of a private play at their house, which they were afterwards, and during their saintly friend's absence, to perform at the house of a friend; and a large room called the library, in which there was a wide commodious skreen, was selected as the scene of action.

Fanny Barnwell, who disliked private and other theatricals as much as their old friend herself, was to have no part in the performance; but, as they were disappointed of their prompter that evening, she was, though with great difficulty, persuaded to perform the office, for that night only.

It was to be a dress rehearsal; and the parties were in the midst of adorning themselves, when, to their great consternation, they saw their supposed distant friend coming up the street, and evidently intending them a visit. What was to be done? To admit her was impossible. They therefore called up a new servant, who only came to them the day before, and who did not know the worldly consequence of their unwelcome guest; and Cecilia said to her, "you see that old lady yonder; when she knocks, be sure you say that we are not at home; and you had better add, that we shall not be home till bed-time;” thus adding the lie of CONVENIENCE to other deceptions. Accordingly, when she knocked at the door, the girl spoke as she was desired to do, or rather she improved upon it; for she said that her ladies had been out all day, and would not return till two o'clock in the morning.' "Indeed! that is unfortunate;" said their disappointed visitor, stopping to deliberate whether she should not leave a note of agreeable surprise for Cecilia; but the girl, who held the door in her hand, seemed so impatient to get rid of her, that she resolved not to write, and then turned away.

The girl was really in haste to return to the kitchen; for she was gossiping with an old fellow-servant. She therefore neglected to go back to her anxious employers; but Cecilia ran down the back stairs, to interrogate her, exclaiming, "Well; what did she say? I hope she did not suspect that we were at home." "No, to be sure not, Miss; -how should she?-for I said even more than you told me to say,"

repeating her additions; being eager to prove her claim to the confidence of her new mistress. "But are you sure that she is really gone from the door?""To be sure, Miss."-" Still, I wish you could go and see; because we have not seen her pass the window, though we heard the door shut."-"Dear me, Miss, how should you? for I looked out after her, and I saw her go down the street under the windows, and turn.. yes, I am sure that I saw her turn into a shop. However, I will go and look, if you desire it." She did so; and certainly saw nothing of the dreaded guest. Therefore, her young ladies finished their preparations, devoid of fear. But the truth was, that the girl, little aware of the importance of this unwelcome lady, and concluding she could not be a friend, but merely some troublesome nobody, showed her contempt and her anger at being detained so long, by throwing to the street door with such violence, that it did not really close; and the old lady, who had ordered her carriage to come for her at a certain hour, and was determined, on second thoughts, to sit down and wait for it, was able, unheard, to push open the door, and to enter the library unperceived;-for the girl lied to those who bade her lie, when she said that she saw her walk away.

In that room Mrs Atheling found a sofa; and though she wondered at seeing a large skreen opened before it, she seated herself on it, and, being fatigued with her walk, soon fell asleep. But her slumber was broken very unpleasantly; for she heard, as she awoke, the following dialogue, on the entrance of Cecilia and her lover, accompanied by Fanny. "Well-I am so glad we got rid of Mrs Atheling so easily!" cried Cecilia. "That new girl seems apt. Some servants deny one so as to show one is at home."-" I should like them the better for it," said Fanny. "I hate to see any one ready at telling a falsehood."-" Poor little conscientious dear!" said the lover, mimicking her, “one would think the dressed-up saint had made you as methodistical as herself. "What, I suppose, Miss Fanny, you would have had us let the old quiz in."-"To be sure I would; and I wonder you could be denied to so kind a friend. Poor dear Mrs Atheling! how hurt she would be, if she knew you were at home!"_" Poor dear, indeed! Do not be so affected, Fanny. How should you care for Mrs Atherling, when you know that she dislikes you!"-" Dislikes me! Oh yes; I fear she does!"-" I am sure she does," replied Cecelia ; " for you are downright rude to her. Did you not say, only the day before yesterday, when she said, There, Miss Barnwell, I hope I have at last gotten a cap which you like,-No; I am sorry to say you have not ?"-"To be sure I did; -I could not tell a falsehood, even to please Mrs Atheling, though she was my own dear mother's dearest friend."-"Your mother's

friend, Fanny! I never heard that before;" said the lover. "Did you not know that, Alfred!" said Cecilia; eagerly adding, "but Mrs Atheling does not know it;" giving him a meaning look, as if to say, "and do not you tell her."-" Would she did know it!" said Fanny mournfully, "for though I dare not tell her So, lest she should abuse my poor mother, as you say she would, Cecilia, because she was so angry at her marriage with my misguided father, still I think she would look kindly on her once dear friend's orphan child, and like me, in spite of my honesty."" No, no, silly girl; honesty is usually its own reward. Alfred, what do you think? Our old friend, who is not very penetrating, said one day to her, I suppose you think my caps too young for me; and that true young person replied, Yes, Madam, I do."-" And would do so again, Cecilia ;-and it was far more friendly and kind to say so than flatter her on her dress, as you do, and then laugh at her when her back is turned. I hate to hear any one mimicked and laughed at; and more especially my mamma's old friend."""There, there, child! your sentimentality makes me sick. But come; let us begin."-"Yes," cried Alfred, "let us rehearse a little, before the rest of the party come. I should like to hear Mrs Atheling's exclamations, if she knew what we were doing. She would say thus:". . . . Here he gave a most accurate representation of the poor old lady's voice and manner, and her fancied abuse of private theatricals, while Cecilia cried, "bravo! bravo!" and Fanny "shame! shame!" till the other Livingstones, and the rest of the company, who now entered, drowned her cry in their loud applauses and louder laughter.

The old lady, whom surprise, anger, and wounded sensibility, had hitherto kept silent and still in her involuntary hiding-place, now rose up, and, mounting on the sofa, looked over the top of the skreen, full of reproachful meaning, on the conscious offenders!

What a moment, to them, of overwhelming surprise and consternation! The cheeks, flushed with malicious triumph and satirical pleasure, became covered with the deeper blush of detected treachery, or pale with fear of its consequences;-and the eyes, so lately beaming with ungenerous injurious satisfaction, were now cast with painful shame upon the ground, unable to meet the justly indignant glance of her, whose kindness they had repaid with such palpable and base ingratitude! "An admirable likeness indeed, Lawrie," said their undeceived dupe, breaking her perturbed silence, and coming down from her elevation; "but it will cost you more than you are at present aware of.-But who art thou?" she added, addressing Fanny (who though it might have been a moment of triumph to her, felt and looked as if she had been a sharer in the guilt,) "Who art thou, my honourable, kind girl? And who was your mother?"" Your

Fanny Beaumont," replied the quick-feeling orphan, bursting into tears. 66 'Fanny Beaumont's child! and it was concealed from me!" said she, folding the weeping girl to her heart. "But it was all of a piece ;-all treachery and insincerity, from the beginning to the end. However, I am undeceived before it is too late." She then disclosed to the detected family her generous motive for the unexpected visit; and declared her thankfulness for what had taken place, as far as she was herself concerned; though she could not but deplore, as a christian, the discovered turpitude of those whom she had fondly loved.

"I have now," she continued, "to make amends to one whom I have hitherto not treated kindly; but I have at length been enabled to discover an undeserved friend, amidst undeserved foes. . . . My dear child," added she, parting Fanny's dark ringlets, and gazing tearfully in her face, "I must have been blind, as well as blinded, not to see your likeness to your dear mother. Will you live with me, Fanny, and be unto me as a DAUGHTER ?”—“Oh, most gladly!" was the eager and agitated reply." You artful creature!" exclaimed Cecilia, pale with rage and mortification, "you knew very well she was behind the skreen." "I know that she could not know it," replied the old lady; "and you, Miss Livingstone, assert what you do not yourself believe. But come, Fanny, let us go and meet my carriage; for, no doubt, your presence here is now as unwelcome as mine." But Fanny lingered, as if reluctant to depart. She could not bear to leave the Livingstones in anger. They had been kind to her; and she would fain have parted with them affectionately; but they all preserved a sullen, indignant silence, and scornfully repelled her advances." You see that you must not tarry here, my good girl," observed the old lady, smiling; "so let us depart." They did so; leaving the Livingstones and the lover, not deploring their fault, but lamenting their detection;-lamenting also the hour when they added the lies of CONVE NIENCE to their other deceptions, and had thereby enabled their unsuspecting dupe to detect those falsehoods, the result of their avaricious fears, which may be justly entitled the LIES of interest.

MRS OPIE.

IV.

K

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