And she tried to believe that she was glad that it was so, while a shadow of dissatisfaction lay at the bottom of her heart.
When Mr.Wynter left Paris, he did so with the comfortable conviction that his cousins were happily settled; and with the persuasion that, as they both appeared to have a fair share of common sense, they would soon forget their past troubles, and be just like other people.
"I don't like Mary's state of health at present," he said to his wife; "and, if I am not mistaken, she thinks even worse of it than I do; but still, rest of mind and body may do a great deal; and now she is really a widow, and quite safe from any further annoyances, I dare say she will come round." "And her daughter ?" asked Mrs.Wynter rather anxiously.

"Do you think she would get on with the girls ?" "I don't know, I'm sure, my dear.

She is not much like them, certainly, or, indeed, like any English girl.

She is wonderfully pretty, but quite Indian in looks." "Poor child! what a pity!" "I am not sure about that.

She seems a good girl, and Mary says is the greatest comfort to her, so I suppose she is English at heart; and as for her black eyes, there is something very attractive about them." Mrs.Wynter sighed again.