the gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father’s lifetime.

There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth’s mind, a more gentle sensation towards the original than she had ever felt at the height of their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant?

As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people’s happiness were in his guardianship! — how much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow! — how much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character, and as she stood before the canvas on which he was