The Widow

She was so charitable and pitious
She would weep if that she saw a mouse
Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled;
Of small hounds had she, that she fed
With rost flesh, milke, and wastel bread;
But sore wept she if any of them were dead,
Or if man smote them with a yard smart.

CHAUCER.

Notwithstanding the whimsical parade made by Lady Lillycraft on her
arrival, she has none of the petty stateliness that I had imagined; but
on the contrary she has a degree of nature, and simple-heartedness, if I
may use the phrase, that mingles well with her old-fashioned manners and
harmless ostentation. She dresses in rich silks, with long waist; she
rouges considerably, and her hair, which is nearly white, is frizzled
out, and put up with pins. Her face is pitted with the small-pox, but
the delicacy of her features shows that she may once have been
beautiful; and she has a very fair and well-shaped hand and arm, of
which, if I mistake not, the good lady is still a little vain.

I have had the curiosity to gather a few particulars concerning her. She
was a great belle in town between thirty and forty years since, and
reigned for two seasons with all the insolence of beauty, refusing
several excellent offers; when, unfortunately, she was robbed of her
charms and her lovers by an attack of the small-pox. She retired
immediately into the country, where she some time after inherited an
estate, and married a baronet, a former admirer, whose passion had
suddenly revived; "having," as he said, "always loved her mind rather
than her person."

The baronet did not enjoy her mind and fortune above six months, and
had scarcely grown very tired of her, when he broke his neck in a
fox-chase and left her free, rich, and disconsolate. She has remained on
her estate in the country ever since, and has never shown any desire to
return to town, and revisit the scene of her early triumphs and fatal
malady. All her favourite recollections, however, revert to that short
period of her youthful beauty. She has no idea of town but as it was at
that time; and continually forgets that the place and people must have
changed materially in the course of nearly half a century. She will
often speak of the toasts of those days as if still reigning; and, until
very recently, used to talk with delight of the royal family, and the
beauty of the young princes and princesses. She cannot be brought to
think of the present king otherwise than as an elegant young man, rather
wild, but who danced a minuet divinely; and before he came to the crown,
would often mention him as the "sweet young prince."

She talks also of the walks in Kensington Gardens, where the gentlemen
appeared in gold-laced