The gate of the little garden opened, and Miss Linnet, seated at her small table near the window, saw Mr.Tryan enter.
'There is Mr.Tryan,' she said, and her pale cheek was lighted up with a little blush that would have made her look more attractive to almost any one except Miss Eliza Pratt, whose fine grey eyes allowed few things to escape her silent observation.

'Mary Linnet gets more and more in love with Mr.Tryan,' thought Miss Eliza; 'it is really pitiable to see such feelings in a woman of her age, with those old-maidish little ringlets.

I daresay she flatters herself Mr.Tryan may fall in love with her, because he makes her useful among the poor.' At the same time, Miss Eliza, as she bent her handsome head and large cannon curls with apparent calmness over her work, felt a considerable internal flutter when she heard the knock at the door.

Rebecca had less self-command.

She felt too much agitated to go on with her pasting, and clutched the leg of the table to counteract the trembling in her hands.
Poor women's hearts! Heaven forbid that I should laugh at you, and make cheap jests on your susceptibility towards the clerical sex, as if it had nothing deeper or more lovely in it than the mere vulgar angling for a husband.