Her life with her first husband had not been a
happy one. She had made the fatal mistake of marrying to please
her parents rather than herself, and had repented it ever
afterward. On her husband's death his family had not behaved well
to her, and she had passed her widowhood, with her only child, a
daughter, in the retirement of a small Scotch town many miles
away from the home of her married life. After a time the little
girl's health had begun to fail, and, by the doctor's advice, she
had migrated southward to the mild climate of Torquay. The change
had proved to be of no avail; and, rather more than a year since,
the child had died. The place where her darling was buried was a
sacred place to her and she remained a resident at Torquay. Her
position in the world was now a lonely one. She was herself an
only child; her father and mother were both dead; and, excepting
cousins, her one near relation left alive was a maternal uncle
living in London.
These particulars were all related simply and unaffectedly before
Mr. Carling ventured on the confession of his attachment. When he
made his proposal of marriage, Mrs. Duncan received it with an
excess of agitation which astonished and almost alarmed the
inexperienced clergyman. As soon as she could speak, she begged
with extraordinary earnestness and anxiety for a week to consider
her answer, and requested Mr.
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