But the upshot was,--the upshot of so many fears and
such small means,--that Hetta and Susan Bell had but a dull life of
it.
Were it not that I am somewhat closely restricted in the number of
my pages, I would describe at full the merits and beauties of Hetta
and Susan Bell. As it is I can but say a few words. At our period
of their lives Hetta was nearly one-and-twenty, and Susan was just
nineteen. Hetta was a short, plump, demure young woman, with the
softest smoothed hair, and the brownest brightest eyes. She was
very useful in the house, good at corn cakes, and thought much,
particularly in these latter months, of her religious duties. Her
sister in the privacy of their own little room would sometimes twit
her with the admiring patience with which she would listen to the
lengthened eloquence of Mr. Phineas Beckard, the Baptist minister.
Now Mr. Phineas Beckard was a bachelor.
Susan was not so good a girl in the kitchen or about the house as
was her sister; but she was bright in the parlour, and if that
motherly heart could have been made to give out its inmost secret--
which however, it could not have been made to give out in any way
painful to dear Hetta--perhaps it might have been found that Susan
was loved with the closest love.
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