THERE IS NO HURRY. 47)

Mary burst into tears. ‘I do not,” she said,
¢ shrink from considering those instruments the
means of my support; but although I know the
necessity for so considering, I feel I cannot tell
what at quitting the home of my childhood;
people are all kind; you, my dear uncle, from
whom we expected so little, the kindest of all;
but I see, even in these early days of a first sor-
row, indications of falling off. My aunt’s hus-
band has really behaved very badly about the
appointment of my eldest brother; and as to
the cadetship for the second—we had sucha
brief dry letter from our Indian friend—so many
first on the ‘list, and the necessity for waiting,
that I do not know how it will end.”

“T wish, my dear, you could prevail on your
mother, and sister, and all, to come to Repton,”
said Mr. Adams. “If your mother dislikes
being in my house, I would find her a cottage
near us; I will do alll can. My wife joins
me in the determination to think that we have
six additional children to look to. We differ
from’you in our habits; but our hearts and af-
fections are no less true to you all. My Mary
and you will be as sisters.”

His niece could bear no more kindness. She
aad been far more bitterly disappointed than she
_had confessed even to her uncle; and yet the very
bitterness of the disappointment had been the
first thing that had driven her father’s dying wail
from her ears—that cry repeated so often and