My studious habits, far from being discouraged, were praised by
all the household, and I was looked upon as a prodigy of cleverness and
industry.
A widow lady, of the name of Haughton, came to live in the little
cottage near us when I was fifteen years old. She was well-born, but
poor, and had known many sorrows. My aunt, Mrs. Heywood, soon became
interested in her, and took pleasure in offering her those numerous
attentions which a wealthy neighbor can so easily bestow, and which are
so grateful to the recipient. Mrs. Haughton and her sons were frequent
guests at our house; and we, too, spent many pleasant hours in the
vine-covered porch of the cottage. I had few companions, and John and
William Haughton were very welcome to me. They were somewhat older than
I,--John twenty-two, and William two years younger; and I was thus just
able to escape regarding them with that profound contempt which the
girl of fifteen usually feels for "boys." After knowing them awhile I
felt how baseless such contempt would be; for they possessed a depth
and maturity of character rarely seen except in men of much experience.
John was grave and thoughtful; his livelier brother often said he had
come into the world some centuries too late,--that he was meant for an
Augustine or a Pascal, so studious was he, and so saintly.
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