THE LEGEND OF THE ABBEY TOWER. 133 



my heroine, the only perfect beauty of the dramatis personae. Ah, 

 sir, she was lovely ; and, in brief, most truly beloved, albeit poor 

 and uneducated as a sexton's daughter might be. Her father has, 

 for many years, rung the knell and opened the grave of every person 

 buried in the abbey yard, except two, of whose fate we are about to 

 speak ; and the poor old man is now tottering onwards towards that 

 final bed of rest in which he has laid so many of his neighbours. 



It was the pretty Mary's office to open the pew doors and attend 

 more particularly to the comforts of the baronet's and vicar's fami- 

 lies, who occupied two large pews at the top of the aisle, and left 

 many prayer books and cushions to be put in order or put by, when 

 the great folks came to church or returned from it. Baldwin had 

 often thrown a covert glance upon her as she preceded the family 

 procession up the church, and humbly greeted them with a gentle 

 curtesy as they passed the door which she held open to them. The 

 baronet never appeared to notice her; but his amiable wife kindly 

 smiled, and his niece Matilda coldly bowed in reply to her lowly 

 greeting. Last in the procession, and somewhat slowly lagging, 

 would come the melancholy Baldwin ; and Marj, in curtsying to 

 him, would, with most fascinating modesty, let fall her eye, as if 

 knowing too truly the direction of his. 



Women are more intuitive, or rather, much more readily imitative 

 than men. The lady's maid sooner becomes like her mistress, than 

 the valet like his master; and, where a female with poor Mary's 

 quickness, also meets with the opportunities which she found, in a 



frequent attendance upon Lady B , it is most likely she will 



soon imbibe a very respectable share of gentility. She was highly 

 favoured by that amiable woman, and took the loss of her kind mis- 

 tress perhaps as much to heart as the baronet, or even Baldwin 

 himself. It was, 1 believe, this which more particularly acted upon 

 the son's heart than any thing which had transpired before his 

 mother's loss. He had already looked upon her (as sentimental 

 young men will look upon pretty girls) with a romantic rather than 

 real admiration ; but we may not conclude, that under the ordinary 

 progress of circumstances, he would have encouraojed any feeling 

 towards her beyond that which a prudential sense of their disparity 

 might control. 



But — his mother — beloved almost to adoration, died ! He had 

 no brother, sister, nor any family connexion with whom he could 

 truly sympathize. On him had she lavished the " riches fineless** 

 of a mother's love and most indulgent care. Remembering this, he 

 asked himself, " to whom besides had she shewn any peculiar 



