^*v 
 
 IttieWorl
 
 .
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD,
 
 •gaflan tpne Qrcgss 
 
 BAI.I.ANTVNE, HANSOM AND CO. 
 EDINUURGIi AND LONDON
 
 GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD 
 
 r.Y 
 
 ELIZABETH M. SEWELL 
 
 ' I have chosen the way of truth, and thy judgments have I laid 
 before me.' Psalm cxix. 30 
 
 NEW EDITION 
 
 LONDON 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 1S86 
 
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 ■ 
 
 I ( 

 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 <"T\ON'T, Juliet; just see what a stroke you have forced me 
 *-^ to make ; and I asked you to draw at the other table.' 
 
 ' And I told you I couldn't see there. What does the stroke 
 signify ? Mr. Brownlow never scolds.' 
 
 ' But, Juliet, I must have it right ; I can't bear an untidy 
 drawing.' 
 
 ' Then, if you please, Annette, it is time you should learn to 
 bear it. There is Myra, who never finished a drawing decently 
 in her life, and is quite happy without it.' 
 
 The assertion was made at random, at least if it was per- 
 mitted to judge from Myra's countenance. She was at that 
 moment seated before a writing-desk, one hand supporting her 
 head, the other playing idly with a pen, whilst her face was 
 so expressive of anything but happiness, that even Annette 
 forgot her annoyance at the false stroke, and joined in Juliet's 
 laugh at her sister's despairing attitude, as she pored over her 
 German exercise. 
 
 ' I don't see why you are to laugh,' exclaimed Myra, and 
 she turned round petulantly ; ' you have neither of you begun 
 German yet ; when you have, see if you won't feel just the 
 same.' 
 
 'It is not feeling, but looking,' said Juliet. 'If I were 
 going to be hung, I wouldn't look so crestfallen.' 
 
 'Wait till you are tried,' was the retort, as Myra gave a 
 push to her writing-desk, which nearly upset the ink. 
 
 Juliet rushed to the rescue of the German exercise-book. 
 
 465467
 
 2 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Annette carefully removed her drawing to a distant part of 
 the room. 
 
 ' Good-bye to my chance of a mark to-day,' exclaimed 
 Juliet ; ' there is a blot on the left ear of the left hand figure, 
 in the left hand corner. Look, Myra ! ' She held up the draw- 
 ing good-humouredly, but Myra was not to be soothed. 
 
 ' It would not have happened if you had not laughed at 
 me,' she said ; ' but you and Annette are always making fun 
 of me — and from younger sisters I won't bear it. Every one 
 makes fun of me,' she added in a lower tone. 
 
 ' Only when your collar is awry,' said Juliet provokingly. 
 
 ' Or when your cuffs don't match,' added Annette from the 
 distant corner where she had settled herself. 
 
 Myra glanced at herself in the glass over the mantelpiece > 
 then, without vouchsafing a reply, went and stood before it, 
 and tried to put her collar straight. 
 
 1 You had better let me do that for you, Myra,' said a voice 
 which had not been heard before. 
 
 A very'pretty girl, tall, and dressed in good taste, but in the 
 height of the fashion, stood in the doorway. There could not 
 have been a greater contrast to Myra. Her smile was so 
 sunny — her voice so cheerful — her movements so graceful — 
 even Myra's ill-humour was mollified by her soothing tone 
 and manner. ' Mamma wants you in the drawing-room, so 
 you must let me put you to rights,' she added, as Myra 
 seemed at first inclined to resist any interference with her 
 toilette. 
 
 ' I can't go ; I have not finished my exercise, and Herr 
 Werther will be here at three,' exclaimed Myra, the cloud 
 returning again to her face. ' Who is in the drawing-room ? ' 
 
 1 The Verneys ; at least Mrs. Verney and a niece. Mrs. 
 Verney wants the niece to walk with you, only she is too shy 
 to come into the schoolroom with so many strangers ; and you 
 are just her age, so you are to go and make acquaintance.' 
 
 ' It is very unkind in you, Rosamond, not to bring her in 
 here yourself; you know I can't bear going into the drawing- 
 room ; and Mrs. Verney always looks me over from head to 
 foot, and talks to mamma about me as if I was a doll.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 3 
 
 Rosamond only replied by gently forcing her sister into a 
 chair, arranging the collar, smoothing the ruffled hair, taking 
 off the unmatched cuffs, and sending Juliet for another pair. 
 
 Myra submitted, but neither cheerfully nor gratefully. 
 There was an expression in her face which, if the cause 
 had been more important, might have called for sympathy. 
 It was not annoyance, nor, at that moment, temper. It was 
 a look of inward trouble — restlessness ■ in an older person 
 it might have portended a settled despondency ; and it did 
 not leave her even when Rosamond pronounced that she was 
 all right now, and Juliet came forward and declared that she 
 looked quite a different person — almost pretty. The only 
 change then was in her manner. It had been natural before 
 — it was constrained now ; and as she left the room, Juliet's 
 comment to Annette was — ' I think it is worse when she is on 
 her best behaviour, because then she is affected.' 
 
 Myra was correct in her account of Mrs. Verney. She did 
 look at her from head to foot as she entered. ' Myra is much 
 grown, I think,' was her remark, addressed to Mrs. Cameron • 
 4 and she really is more like Rosamond than I ever thought 
 she would be.' 
 
 The voice was so gentle and refined, it was wonderful what 
 made the speech so unpleasing. Perhaps it was the sharp 
 criticising glance which accompanied the words. 
 
 ' Myra does very well when she chooses to take pains with 
 herself,' said Mrs. Cameron languidly. ' My dear, don't drag 
 that chair so awkwardly. Madame Dupont was in despair 
 about her for some time, but I think I see some improvement. 
 Place your chair by that young lady, Myra, and make acquaint- 
 ance with her ; she is Mrs. Verney's niece.' 
 
 Myra moved her chair. The two girls looked at each 
 other, but neither uttered a word beyond the first necessary 
 question. 
 
 'Myra has such a very awkward way with strangers, 
 observed Mrs. Cameron in an undertone. ' Rosamond, do 
 try and help her.' 
 
 ' Rosamond is so sweet and kind ; she makes everything 
 go smoothly,' said Mrs. Verney. And certainly it did seem
 
 4 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 as if Rosamond possessed some magical influence, for she had 
 no sooner made a commonplace remark, than the spell was 
 broken. Catharine Verney, who had just come from a London 
 school, began to pour out anecdotes — very amusing, if not 
 always in good taste ; and Myra listened, and asked questions, 
 and ventured at length to propose an adjournment to the 
 schoolroom. 
 
 ' Don't drag one foot behind the other,' said Mrs. Cameron 
 as Myra walked across the room ; and before the door was 
 closed, she added, ' It is so odd that she should be awkward 
 and affected too.' 
 
 Then Mrs. Cameron was not fond of Myra, and treated 
 her unkindly ? Not at all. Mrs. Cameron only gave utter- 
 ance to her thoughts, without considering their possible effect. 
 And she said what was quite true. Myra was affected at 
 times, under certain circumstances. She was unquestionably 
 awkward, and had, moreover, a very unpleasant temper — ■ 
 extremely irritable, and very often passionate. No mother, 
 anxious as Mrs. Cameron was for her child's good, and per- 
 haps it should be added, for the world's approbation, could 
 help being fretted by her. But there was another, a very 
 special cause for vexation in this instance. Myra was such a 
 contrast to Rosamond, and Rosamond was Mrs. Cameron's 
 stepdaughter. It was scarcely in human nature to see the 
 grace and sweetness of manner which marked the one, without 
 feeling mortified at the deficiencies of the other. To do Mrs. 
 Cameron justice, she never showed her annoyance ill-naturedly. 
 She had adopted Rosamond and her two brothers as her own 
 children, when Rosamond was six years old, and had always 
 treated them with affectionate consideration. The claims of 
 her own children had never been allowed to interfere with 
 theirs. And she had been in one respect well repaid. The 
 first family — as her step-children were often called — were 
 remarkably good-tempered and manageable. The boys, in- 
 deed, had early passed beyond her control ; they had been 
 sent to a public school, and now Godfrey, having gone through 
 college, was studying for the bar, and Edmund was preparing 
 to enter the army. Nothing in their career had ever caused
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 5 
 
 her any uneasiness. Mr, Cameron might have had his 
 anxieties about them, but they were not shared with her ; and 
 Mrs. Cameron was not a person to go out of her way to seek 
 for trouble. What came before her she accepted ; but she 
 had married in order to escape from the worries of a large 
 household, conflicting bills, and a small income ; and when 
 she found herself in affluence, and free from the tyranny of a 
 domestic democracy, her naturally indolent mind at once 
 succumbed to the temptations of her position, and all thought 
 of duty being concentrated in the one idea of obedience to her 
 husband, she suffered everything beyond the sphere of his 
 expressed wishes to pass unnoticed. What might have been 
 her course if Rosamond had been of a different disposition, it 
 is needless to inquire. Resistance at an early period of her 
 married life might have roused her energy. But Rosamond's 
 sweet temper was a marvel. She accepted her stepmother 
 from the first with a kiss, and a smile, and a promise to be 
 very good, and the promise was carefully kept. 
 
 Servants, governesses, masters, all bore the same testimony. 
 Miss Cameron really gave no trouble. She was very willing 
 to learn, equally willing to play. Nothing seemed a grievance 
 or a difficulty to her. That she formed no very strong attach- 
 ments, and, though always welcomed by her young com- 
 panions, was never deeply regretted by them in absence, 
 might be partly the result of her reserve, partly of an unac- 
 knowledged feeling of envy at her superiority. For wherever 
 Rosamond appeared competition ceased. Others might be 
 second, but she was always first. A sweet voice, a good 
 touch, and a perfectly correct ear, made her an excellent 
 musician. If her drawings did not show any original genius, 
 they were always artistic and carefully executed ; and for 
 information, Rosamond gained, apparently without reading, a 
 knowledge which others after months of toil were never able 
 to make their own. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Cameron ! It was all very pleasant at first, 
 when Rosamond was the one child in the schoolroom, and 
 the little ones in the nursery were only brought down to be 
 exhibited for a few moments to some particular baby fancier,
 
 6 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 and sent away at the earliest intimation of a cry ; but it was 
 very different when they were all to be displayed as one family. 
 The difference between Rosamond and her sisters was then 
 evident to every one — Mr. Cameron- included. Juliet and 
 Annette, indeed, were passable ; they had not Rosamond's 
 grace and beauty, but they might grow into something present- 
 able, and at any rate there was nothing in them that could 
 be remarkably the reverse ; but that unhappy Myra ! ' My 
 dear, if she can't look good tempered she must stay in the 
 nursery,' was the short and stern dictum issued by Mr. Cameron 
 to his wife, when the child was about seven years old ; and 
 his words being taken literally, Myra was constantly irritated 
 with injunctions to look bright and pleasant when she went 
 down to dessert, till she lost all control of her temper, and in 
 consequence was pronounced the naughtiest little girl in Eng- 
 land, and left upstairs for the remainder of the evening. 
 
 The governesses, and they were many (for Mrs. Cameron, 
 much as she disliked exertion, could never be satisfied without 
 trying a new plan upon Myra every two years), gave rather a 
 different testimony. Myra, indeed, was very fretful and pas- 
 sionate, but then she would work. Whether it was obsti- 
 nacy or industry no one ventured to decide, but certainly 
 whatever she took in hand she finished 3 — untidily, perhaps, 
 and not in a way which showed any great talent, but in a 
 fashion of her own, which, after all, was better than not at all. 
 And Myra would read too, which was what Rosamond never 
 did. Give her a book and she was happy ; and in this taste 
 was found the peace of the schoolroom. Crouched in a low 
 chair, in an ungainly attitude, with her feet on the fender, 
 Myra could sit for hours absorbed in some tale — which, 
 probably, she had read half a dozen times before — and Juliet 
 and Annette were then allowed to pursue their own occupations 
 undisturbed. But the moment the reading was over — the 
 moment there was anything to be done jointly, and in conse- 
 quence any difference of opinion, or question of conflicting 
 rights — Myra started up, full of complaints, eager to assert 
 herself, and ready to do battle with the first who opposed 
 her.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 7 
 
 It was no wonder that the disposition was expressed in the 
 face. Myra had only a very moderate share of beauty by 
 nature, and certainly at sixteen it had not been increased by 
 the softening influences of education. 
 
 ' My stepdaughter and my own daughter — if they could 
 only be reversed !' was Mrs. Cameron's unexpressed thought, 
 as Rosamond, after accompanying Myra and Catharine Verney 
 to the schoolroom, returned to wish Mrs. Verney good-bye, 
 and prepare for a ride. And Mrs. Verney's after-comment — 
 'How sweet and charming Rosamond is!' — by no means 
 soothed her wounded maternal vanity. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 * FAITH has brought the tonic, Doctor ; don't you think you 
 had better take it at once ? And here is a biscuit all ready.' 
 
 The speaker was an elderly lady with a very clear com- 
 plexion, and rather a bright colour, quiet blue eyes, and grey 
 hair dressed in large curls. She were a dark puce-colourcd 
 silk dress, by no means expansive, and rather short ; so short, 
 indeed, as to exhibit a pair of square-toed shoes, made very 
 high in the instep, and, if one might judge from the loud foot- 
 step, very heavy-soled. Her voice was rather hard, her utter- 
 ance rapid, only the pure accent told of the refinement of good 
 society. 
 
 The Doctor was an old gentleman with strongly-marked 
 features, which in youth might have been called handsome. 
 The brown wig, pushed rather to one side, gave them an 
 incongruous expression now. It cut off a portion of his fore- 
 head, and tended to exaggerate the length of his nose — a very 
 remarkable nose, long, rounded, and cogitative, in which the 
 chief expression of the face was concentrated. Without it the 
 mouth might have been almost weakly benevolent, whilst the 
 eyes were decidedly irascible. 
 
 'A quarter of an hour before your time, Patty,' was his reply
 
 8 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 to the medicinal offer which had been made him. The grey 
 eyes, twinkling through spectacles, were still kept fixed upon 
 the folio open before him, and he turned a page with one hand, 
 whilst motioning away the intruders with the other. 
 
 ' I am going out, Doctor, and you will forget. Faith, pour 
 out the medicine.' 
 
 Faith, a diminutive counterpart of her mistress, having 
 attained that singular family resemblance which is often to be 
 remarked in servants who have lived long in one household, 
 came forward with a tray, a bottle of brown liquid, a wine- 
 glass, and a plate containing one small biscuit. 
 
 ' It will do you good, sir; you have been much better since 
 you took it. Hasn't he now, Mrs Patty ? ' 
 
 ' Of course he has. The notion of those pins' heads doing 
 any one good ! But Miss Medley is out of her mind, poor 
 thing ; there is no doubt of that. I hope it is not wrong to 
 say so. I hope not. Now, Doctor, dear ! ' 
 
 The affectionate epithet did its work. The Doctor gave a 
 slight sigh as he made a memorandum on a sheet of paper 
 which lay on his desk, and then confronted his medical 
 advisers. 
 
 ' It isn't so very bad, after all,* said Faith, looking at Mrs. 
 Patty ; ' not half so bad as the black doses my grandmother 
 gave me when I was a child.' 
 
 ' I wish, Faith, your grandmother was here to give you this, 
 then,' said the Doctor. ' Patty, what have you done with my 
 globules ? ' 
 
 ' Locked them up, Doctor. They are a temptation to you. 
 Don't think about them now.' She put the glass into his 
 hand. 
 
 ' Only one biscuit ! ' exclaimed the Doctor. There was an 
 evident hesitation for a moment ; then the nauseous mixture 
 was swallowed, and the empty glass laid upon the tray, with 
 a look which Faith seemed instantly to understand, and 
 answered by conveying the obnoxious objects as quickly as 
 possible from his sight, whilst Mrs. Patty handed him the 
 solitary biscuit, saying, as she saw him glance at the empty 
 plate, ' Two would spoil your appetite.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 9 
 
 'Patty, I shall keep the globules myself,' was the Doctor's 
 rejoinder ; ' mind you let me have them.' 
 
 ' We will see, Doctor, dear ; don't think anything more 
 about it ; there is some nice porridge for dinner. Shall you 
 want anything more before I go out ? ' 
 
 1 Nothing,' was the irritable reply ; but the very next 
 moment the old man looked up and repeated gently, ' Nothing, 
 thank you, Patty; only, if you meet Mr. Baines, tell him I 
 should be glad to see him.' 
 
 'Mr. Baines dines with the Camerons to-day, so I hear,' said 
 Mrs. Patty ; ' I don't see clearly what makes him like to go 
 there so often.' 
 
 ' He is dull, and there are young people there,' replied the 
 Doctor abstractedly ; and he turned to resume his studies with 
 an eagerness which seemed to show that he trusted to St. 
 Augustine to help him to forget the nauseous flavour that still 
 lingered in his mouth. 
 
 Mrs. Patty stood for a moment in thought, and then trotted 
 rather than walked out of the room, muttering to herself, ' I 
 dare say she is very good ; I ought not to say a word ; no, I 
 ought not ; and perhaps he never thinks about her, only it 
 might be better for him not to be always laughing and talking 
 with her.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty Kingsbury followed Faith into the kitchen, a 
 pleasant-looking room, bright with well-kept pewter covers, 
 and a dinner set of real china, of the old-fashioned willow 
 pattern. The lattice windows were open upon a back court, 
 kept in perfect order, and made really pretty by a few pet 
 plants. An arm-chair stood by the window, and Mrs. Patty 
 seated herself in it, and summoned Betsey, the cook, to a con- 
 sultation with herself and Faith. 
 
 ' Your master won't take kindly to the porridge much longer, 
 Betsey ; you must think of something else for him.' 
 
 ' He has had it but three days, ma'am, and my father took 
 it for a fortnight.' 
 
 'Dr. Kingsbury is of a different constitution to your father,' 
 observed Mrs. Patty, with a slight tone of offended dignity.
 
 io A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 'Mr. Harrison says his case is peculiar. You know, Faith, 
 he objects to gruel also.' 
 
 ' Quite, ma'am/ replied Faith, shaking her head. ' He 
 objects to everything now, except the pins' heads. To think 
 of Miss Medley's deluding him so ! But he'll give in, ma'am ; 
 don't take on so, pray now don't. He took down the draught 
 quite good, like a baby, Betsey; he did indeed.' 
 
 ' He did indeed,' repeated Mrs. Patty ; ' but, Betsey, I think 
 I should have a mutton-chop ready, in case the porridge does 
 not suit. They are very good — are men — very good indeed ; 
 you know, Betsey, we ought to look up to them, and we do ; 
 but they like their own way in eating and drinking, and very 
 natural.' 
 
 ' You mustn't let master be asked out yet, Mrs. Patty ; if 
 you'll forgive my boldness for saying so,' said Betsey. ' There's 
 been Colonel Verney's man down since breakfast, and he says 
 they are likely to have a gay time there before long, for the 
 Colonel's nephew is expected back from India, and there will 
 be dinner-parties for him.' 
 
 ' Your master requires no check but a sense of duty,' was 
 Mrs. Patty's reply; whilst Faith added quickly: 
 
 ' One would think, Betsey, that master ate and drank like 
 a tiger ; but he has no more appetite than a chick just out of 
 its shell.' 
 
 'May be,' replied Betsey; 'but if't was a saint, I wouldn't 
 put him down to gruel at one end and turtle soup at the other. 
 Those grand dinners at the Colonel's are a perfect sight. How 
 do you wish the mutton-chop dressed, Mrs. Tatty?' 
 
 ' Quite plain, Betsey ; it can't be too plain. Did the butler 
 say when Mr. Charles Verney was expected ? ' 
 
 'The day after to-morrow, ma'am; and Conyers, at Mrs. 
 Cameron's, says that her mistress and Miss Rosamond are 
 asked there for next week. She does not quite know what 
 day.' 
 
 ' Miss Myra must be getting nearly old enough to go out 
 now, surely,' said Faith. ' I wonder nobody ever asks her.' 
 
 ' Such a wee whimpering child as that ! ' exclaimed Betsey ; 
 'why, if anything went wrong she would burst out storming in
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. n 
 
 the middle of dinner. I never did sec any one so queer, for 
 her age— no, never.' 
 
 ' Yet there's something good about her too,' said Faith. 
 ' There is not one of the young ladies as pays master half the 
 respect Miss Myra does.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty had been sitting with rather an absent air during 
 this short colloquy between her servants, but the last sentence 
 caught her attention. Perhaps the discussion struck her as 
 somewhat unfitting, for she rose up and said gravely, ' Mutton- 
 chop, then — quite plain — at four o'clock.' 
 
 A burst of laughter was heard at the open window. 
 
 ' Faith, is that you ? — do come here, please do, Faith.' 
 The voice was Juliet Cameron's ; her round merry face ap- 
 peared at the lattice ; she evidently did not see Mrs. Patty. 
 ' Myra has slipped down the bank into the pond ; she is not 
 hurt, she is only wet, and a little frightened ; and she wants 
 to know if Betsey will let her come and dry herself at the 
 kitchen fire.' 
 
 ' Myra can come into the parlour, my dear.' said Mrs. Patty, 
 advancing. 
 
 ' O Mrs. Patty ! I beg your pardon. I didn't know you 
 were here. Myra told me not to go to the front door, because 
 of the Doctor's being unwell ; and she said it would be making 
 a fuss. There is nothing the matter. Catharine Verney is 
 there — that is Airs. Verney's niece, you know ; and she and 
 Myra were talking, and not looking where they went, and 
 Myra fell and rolled over, that was all. It was so very odd 
 to see her ; she went down the bank like a ball : you can't 
 think how droll it was.' 
 
 ' Young ladies should learn to walk straight,' observed 
 Faith before Mrs. Patty could reply. ' Is Miss Myra very 
 wet ? ' 
 
 ' Faith, if you please to fetch my garden-bonnet, I shall go 
 and see about it,' said Mrs. Patty. ' It may be better that 
 Myra should go home.' 
 
 ' Myra won't do that till she is dry, if she should have to 
 stay in the sun all the afternoon,' said Juliet, her laughter 
 breaking forth again. i Mamma would scold her. You
 
 12 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 know, Mrs. Patty, she always says Myra is no better than 
 a child of five years old; and she did roll over just like 
 one.' 
 
 Faith brought the bonnet, a very remarkable one — a deep 
 curtain behind, a kind of pent-house before — at the far end 
 of which Mrs. Patty's face appeared somewhat like the sun in 
 a mist. 
 
 ' We will go and see, my dear/ was her reply to Juliet's 
 remark. ' Betsey, remember the mutton-chop ; and, Faith, 
 if I am not back to take the Clothing Club pence, when the 
 women come at two o'clock, you must begin.' 
 
 ' So like her, that is — looking after things so long before- 
 hand/ observed Betsey to Faith, as Mrs. Patty joined Juliet 
 in the court ; ' why, she may walk to Marston and back before 
 two o'clock comes.' 
 
 ' It is because she wouldn't run the chance of neglecting/ 
 was Faith's reply. 
 
 Mrs. Patty did not encourage Juliet's communicativeness. 
 She walked on at a steady quick pace, to which Juliet found 
 it somewhat difficult to accommodate herself. The Rectory 
 stood on a rising ground, with a smooth piece of sloping lawn 
 in front. At the foot of the lawn was a little wooded dell 
 crossed by a rustic bridge, and rising from the other side of 
 the dell were the gardens and fields attached to Yare Hall, 
 a moderate-sized, square, red-brick Elizabethan house, with 
 stone mullions and facings to the windows, and a thick shrub- 
 bery round it. Mrs. Patty crossed the lawn and the bridge, 
 and then turned into a gravel path which skirted the deil. 
 Presently she paused. 
 
 'The large pond, I suppose, my dear?' 
 
 'Yes, Mrs. Patty; they were walking along the terrace at 
 the top.' 
 
 ' Very good. Run on, my dear, and tell them I am 
 coming.' 
 
 ' But, Mrs. Patty, Myra never thought of troubling you ; she 
 will be so vexed.' 
 
 'Run on, my dear; you <*an en quicker than I can.' And 
 Mrs. Patty nodded her head good-naturedly, but moved lor
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 13 
 
 Juliet to pass her in a way which showed that she had no 
 intention of having he: will disputed. Juliet was out of sight 
 almost immediately. Mrs. Patty followed at the same pace as 
 before — not at all hurried, only determined. Three minutes 
 more brought her in sight of the pond. It was, in fact, a 
 pretty piece of water ; the banks were clothed with birch and 
 elms. To the right was an extensive wood ; to the left, the 
 village and the church. The three girls were grouped pic- 
 turesquely upon the turf; and the glancing sunlight which fell 
 upon them made the whole a picture for an artist. But Mrs. 
 Patty was not artistic ; she walked straight up to Myra, placing 
 her foot fearlessly as she went upon bramble and stinging 
 nettle, and said — 
 
 ' My dear, home is best for you ; you will go back to the 
 Hall with me.' 
 
 Myra started up, exhibiting, as she rose, a dress covered 
 with mud, and still dripping with water. 
 
 ' Oh ! no, Mrs. Patty ; no, indeed I can't. Please, you 
 must let me come to the Rectory. But it was so ill-natured of 
 Juliet. I told her not to make a fuss. I begged her to go to 
 the back-door. I can't go home. It is impossible.' 
 
 Myra's face, usually pale and woe-begone, became crimson 
 with excitement. Juliet looked at Catharine Verney, and 
 laughed. Catharine shrugged her shoulders, and cast up her 
 eyes • and Myra caught the expression of surprise, and was 
 upon the point of storming again, when Mrs. Patty quietly 
 drew her arm within hers, and said — 
 
 ' We will come, my dear. You two girls go to the Rectory, 
 and tell Faith not to trouble herself, for Myra is going home 
 to change her clothes.' 
 
 ' We must go, I suppose,' whispered Catharine to Juliet. 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose so ; but poor Myra is in for a scolding.' 
 
 ' Never mind the scolding, my dear,' said Mrs. Patty, over- 
 hearing them. ' Run off as fast as you can, and then come up 
 to the Hall ; and, Juliet, you may tell Faith I shall certainly 
 try and be back in time for the Clothing Club.' 
 
 Myra walked by Mrs. Patty's side silently. It would have 
 been difficult to say whether she was most cowed, frightened
 
 i 4 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 or ashamed. For a girl of her age it certainly was rather 
 humiliating to be taken home with a wet dress, after having 
 tumbled into a pond. As they drew near the house she sidled 
 a little away from Mrs. Patty, with the evident intention of 
 making her way into the house by a back entrance, while she 
 said apologetically, ' There may be company in the drawing- 
 room. I know there is some one. Mrs. Verney is there. 
 Mamma would rather not see me.' 
 
 ' Your mamma had better see you, my dear ; then she will 
 know what to do for you. You are wet through, and I should 
 make you go to bed.' 
 
 1 What ! in the middle of the day ? For punishment — 
 like a baby ? Mrs. Patty, I won't ; I never heard any- 
 thing' 
 
 Mrs. Patty gently tapped her on the arm. 'A warm bed, 
 and a little hot wine and water, will keep you from taking cold, 
 my dear. I always send the Doctor to bed when I think he is 
 likely to take cold, and he says he quite enjoys it ; only he 
 can't go on with St. Augustine's Commentary. So now we will 
 just rap at the drawing-room door, and tell your mamma all 
 about it.' 
 
 ' There is Annette in the drawing-room ; I can't go in, Mrs. 
 Patty, indeed I can't.' Myra slunk away, and nearly burst 
 into tears. 
 
 ' Well, then, I will, my dear ; wait here for a moment, and 
 I daresay your mamma will come out to you.' 
 
 As the drawing-room door was opened by Mrs. Patty, Myra 
 stole to one side so as not to be seen ; and the moment it was 
 closed again, she rushed up the stairs, and bolted herself into 
 her own room.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. r$ 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Faith and Mrs. Patty were singularly alike in outward form, 
 but there were great divergences in their minds, greater than 
 Faith would have been willing to allow. Faith knew nothing 
 of such profound reverence as Mrs. Patty felt for the Doctor ; 
 perhaps for that reason she required more sympathy from other 
 persons. She liked a little gossip, and was not fastidious as to the 
 quarter from whence it came. Great as was her virtuous horror 
 of homoeopathic globules, she did not deem it at all necessary 
 to shrink from communication with the one inhabitant of Yare 
 who had been guilty of introducing them into the village ; and 
 even the startling fact that her master had been cajoled into 
 the use of them was not sufficient to make her dread any similar 
 influence upon herself. Strong in her own convictions, she 
 often made an excuse, when sent on an errand into the village, 
 to pay a few moments' visit to Miss Medley, just for the pleasure 
 of triumphing over her, by informing her how ' Mrs. Patty had 
 persuaded the Doctor to try a tonic, or a cup of coffee, or even, 
 sometimes, a little brandy, which had done him a world of 
 good ; and how he had had quite a sweet nap afterwards in 
 his arm-chair, and woke up as fresh as a bird, and no pain.' 
 The triumph was increased by the fact that Miss Medley's 
 father had been a physician — by some called a quack, because 
 he had late in life adopted the new system of medicine ; any- 
 how, he was a gentleman, and Faith, never forgetting that 
 Miss Medley was born a lady, was all the more happy in her 
 self-gratulation, when she could, as she thought, prove, to the 
 confounding of all gainsayers, that port wine, or water gruel, 
 as the case might be, would be found to be worth all the 
 whimsies which clever gentlemen or clever ladies had ever 
 invented or encouraged. 
 
 ' You don't happen to be wanting anything I can get for you 
 at the grocer's, ma'am ?' was her inquiry, as she knocked at,
 
 i6 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 and then immediately opened, the door of Miss Medley's little 
 parlour. ' I have been at the Hall, on a message from Mrs. 
 Patty, and now I am just going on a step farther down the 
 village.' 
 
 ' I don't want anything that I know of, Faith, thank you ; 
 but don't stand in the draught of the passage.' 
 
 Faith willingly obeyed, though draught there was none from 
 the passage, for a very good reason, that no passage existed. 
 The little steep staircase went up directly from the street-door. 
 The landlady, Mrs. Haynes, had the parlour to the right ; Miss 
 Medley herself the parlour to the left, with the bedroom above. 
 It was a comfortable little lodging upon the whole, and toler- 
 ably well furnished. There was a dark puce-colour leathern 
 arm-chair, a sofa with a chintz covering, a chiffionier and some 
 bookshelves, a mahogany slab and a little writing-table ; not 
 to mention a rosewood cabinet piano, which Miss Medley's 
 friends voted a great encumbrance, but which Miss Medley 
 herself looked upon as the one only important piece of furniture 
 in her possession, since on it she diligently played chants and 
 psalm tunes on Sunday evening, singing at the same time with 
 a cracked, though originally good voice, to the great edification 
 of Mr., Mrs., and Miss Haynes, who, besides listening and 
 approving, were not unfrequently summoned to join. 
 
 'Anything the matter at the Hall, Faith?' asked Miss 
 Medley. She was a brisk little woman, and her bright black 
 eyes twinkled and glittered incessantly. They made her look 
 quite young at a distance, especially when it was not seen that 
 her brown curls had no natural and necessary connection with 
 her head. 
 
 ' I can't say, ma'am. I wouldn't undertake to say. Mrs. 
 Patty recommended that Mr. Harrison should be sent for ; but 
 Mrs. Cameron — I don't mean any disrespect — but she is very 
 slow ; and fever is sometimes fearful rapid.' 
 
 ' Fever ! infectious ? scarlet ? typhus ? gastric ? ' Miss 
 Medley stretched out her hand to a large green book which 
 always lay on her table. 
 
 'Dear heart! no, ma'am. How can one say? fevers are 
 like babies ; there's no knowing them apart when they are
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. r/ 
 
 born. And who can tell what this will turn to ? or it might 
 not turn at all. But anyhow, they have some common sense 
 up at the Hall, and will know what to do. I said so to Mrs. 
 Patty, and great comfort it was to her to think of it.' 
 
 Common sense could not mean globules ! Miss Medley was 
 quite sure of that fact ; but under what nauseous form it would 
 be likely to exhibit itself, in the emergency so vaguely hinted 
 at by Faith, she did not stop to inquire. ' Mrs. Cameron has 
 fever, then — low fever, I suppose ? It is going about a good 
 deal.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Cameron, ma'am ! No, surely. I didn't speak of 
 her, did I ? If I did, I was wrong. Mr. Cameron must be 
 home by this time, and he may know better what to do. Miss 
 Myra is greatly in fear of her papa, they say ; and well she 
 may be, for his one word goes further than other people's 
 dozens.' 
 
 ' His word, and his wish, and his will, of course ! ' observed 
 Miss Medley, and her thin lips curled satirically. 'When 
 was there ever a man that had not his will ? But what about 
 Miss Myra?' 
 
 ' Why, that she is likely to die of fever, if she does not get 
 better soon, ma'am,' replied Faith ; ' and it is her own doing 
 too; a wilful young lady she was always.' 
 
 'Aconite! aconite!' murmured Miss Medley. 'Three 
 globules every hour ! it would quite save her.' She gave a 
 deep sigh, and for a moment she seemed lost in some sorrow- 
 ful meditation. ' But, Faith,' and she looked up as briskly as 
 ever, ' what is the cause ? ' 
 
 'A child's folly, ma'am,' replied Faith, 'which never would 
 have been if her papa had been at home. She tumbled into 
 the pond, and got wet through, and when she went home 
 locked herself up in her room, and would not let any one in ; 
 and there they stayed outside, begging and begging, and she 
 inside, in her wet things, for nearly an hour. So of course 
 there is a cold and fever ; that is all, Miss Medley. But Mr. 
 Cameron will be home by and by, and then there will bp some 
 one to manage her.' 
 
 ' I don't see what good a man is to do in a sick-room, unless 
 
 B
 
 1 3 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 he is a physician, ' observed Miss Medley. 'As a race, Faith, 
 men are noisy.' 
 
 ' Very true, ma'am.' 
 
 ' And impatient,' 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose so, ma'am.' 
 
 ' You need not suppose it, Faith, it is a fact ; they are 
 awkward, also.' 
 
 'Well! yes, perhaps.' Faith thought for a second, and 
 added, ' Master is not.' 
 
 ' Noisy, impatient, awkward — and selfish, Faith ; selfish — ■ 
 don't think of denying it ! they are selfish ; and what good can 
 they do in illness ? ' 
 
 ' They can have things their own way, ma'am,' replied Faith 
 bluntly; ' and I take it that is what is wanted in all households. 
 And if you will forgive me for saying it, you would think the 
 same if you had heard Mrs. Patty's account of what went on 
 at the Hall this afternoon.' 
 
 ' If Mrs. Patty had done right,' replied Miss Medley, ' she 
 would have taken the responsibility upon herself, and not have 
 waited for Mr. Cameron. It has been my rule through life, 
 Faith. I have never hesitated to accept any responsibility. 
 I should have given aconite directly, and Myra Cameron's life 
 would have been saved.' 
 
 ' Please, ma'am, she is not dead yet,' observed Faith. 
 
 ' But she is going to die — there can be no hope,' exclaimed 
 
 Miss Medley impatiently. ' I am half inclined But 
 
 Mr. Cameron is not a man to listen.' 
 
 ' To listen, but not to answer, ma'am,' replied Faith ; ' and 
 if you are thinking of the pins' heads in the little bottles, you 
 might as well talk to a stone wall as to him about them. I 
 heard him say one day myself, when he was dining at the 
 Rectory, and I was waiting at table, that it was — I forget the 
 word — but it was something very unpleasant.' 
 
 ' Humbug ! It is his favourite word. You need not be 
 afraid to repeat it, Faith. I know Mr. Cameron well.' 
 
 ' If you do. ma'am, it is more than any one else does,' an- 
 swered Faith. 'An oyster in his shell isn't more close.' 
 
 ' I know him, Faith, as I know all men. Two or three
 
 A GLIMPSE OP THE WORLD. 
 
 J 9 
 
 general principles are all which is required to enable one to 
 find the key to their characters. If one docs not fit, another 
 will. But you cannot understand that.' 
 
 ' I don't know about keys and principles, ma'am. I dare 
 say they might be useful, if one had to live with Mr. Cameron • 
 but master, you sec, is different.' 
 
 ' Dr. Kingsbury is a remarkable — not exception — he has the 
 faults of his sex : but, upon the whole, he is enabled to rise 
 superior to them. But Dr. Kingsbury is being spoilt ; and 
 Mrs. Patty will live to repent it. However, we will avoid un- 
 pleasant subjects. Miss Myra Cameron, you say, is dying ? ' 
 
 Faith pretended not to hear ; she was searching in the corner 
 of the room for her umbrella. 
 
 'Will it be many hours, do you think?' continued Miss 
 Medley, adopting the sorrowful and sympathetic tone. 
 
 Faith, leaning with both hands upon the umbrella, confronted 
 Miss Medley with open eyes. 
 
 ' Many hours or few, Faith ? ' 
 
 'Just as many, or as few, as is willed above, ma'am. And 
 as far as I can tell, Miss Myra is as yet no nearer dying than 
 you— nor so near, if I may make bold to say it,' she added, 
 glancing at the green book ; ' and so, if you please, I wish 
 you good evening.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Faith was not quite correct in her assertion. Myra Cameron 
 was nearer dying at that moment than Miss Medley — at least, 
 according to human calculation. An hour and a half in wet 
 clothes would alone have been sufficient to give her cold ; when 
 passion and excitement were added, no one could be surprised 
 that she was seriously ill. Myra had locked herself into her 
 room, and resisted both commands and entreaties to open her 
 door. If Mrs. Patty had been there, she might, perhaps, have 
 been more easily persuaded; but Mrs. Patty had no idea of
 
 20 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 neglecting her own duty for the sake of attending to that of 
 others. She was wanted at home for the Clothing Club, and 
 it was Mrs. Cameron's business to attend to her child; so 
 Mrs. Patty went back to the Rectory, somewhat vexed at 
 Myra's wilfulness, but never, supposing for an instant that she 
 would hold out her citadel against the attacks of the besiegers 
 for any length of time. Great was her surprise then to learn, 
 when in the course of the afternoon she called at the Hall 
 again, that Myra had carried on her resistance for nearly an 
 hour, and had only yielded at last upon being told that, if she 
 did not, the door would be broken open. 
 
 ' I think, Miss Greaves, I should have broken it open at 
 once,' was Mrs. Patty's observation to the daily governess, 
 whom she found watching in Myra's room ; and the timid 
 young lady whom she addressed ventured to add : 
 
 ' I said so once to Mrs. Cameron, but she was too nervous 
 to answer me.' 
 
 And thus, between nervousness and timidity, Myra had 
 been given up to her own will. Now she had no will except to 
 be quiet, and have the room dark. Her head throbbed with 
 excruciating pain, her lips were dry, her tongue parched, 
 her hands burning. She had decided fever; not as yet 
 infectious or dangerous, but in a degree which might soon 
 become so. 
 
 It was nine o'clock, and Mrs. Patty was again at the Hall, 
 though not in the capacity of head nurse, for she was conscious 
 of being near-sighted, and what is termed unhandy, and 
 Conyers, the lady's maid, was fully able to do what might be 
 required. Neither did she consider her society any particular 
 advantage to Juliet and Annette. They were suitable com- 
 panions to each other, and did not need her ; whilst Rosamond 
 was, or ought to be, a comfort to Mrs. Cameron. It was 1 
 nothing but sympathy and anxiety which made Mrs. Patty 
 linger in the library, keeping out of the way, and rather 
 avoiding than offering help. She had walked up from the 
 Rectory at eight o'clock, after her brother's tea, and when she 
 had settled him comfortably in his arm-chair, with a lamp 
 and a book of travels by his side ; and hearing from the
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 21 
 
 servant that the doctor was to see Miss Myra at ten o'clock. 
 
 and that Mr. Cameron was expected home every minute, she 
 sent a message to Mrs. Cameron, saying that she was there, 
 but did not wish to disturb any one, and then waited to hear 
 the last report. Most persons would have occupied themselves 
 with reading under such circumstances. Mrs. Patty took 
 some knitting from her pocket, and her ringers worked as 
 busily as her thoughts, though, happily for the result, more 
 connectedly. Fifteen years had passed since she first knew 
 the Camerons. Such was the commencement of her medita- 
 tions. Myra was a baby when Dr. Kingsbury became rector 
 of Yare. Mrs. Cameron was very pretty then, very sweet and 
 amiable ; every one liked her, and thought she would make 
 such a good wife. Every one said also that Mr. Cameron 
 required a good wife, for he would not put up with a bad one. 
 That had been Mrs. Patty's report of him, and it had excited 
 her interest in him, perhaps awakened some fear. People 
 said other things of him, that he was cold, selfish, exacting; 
 but also that he was a very just man in business matters, and 
 a good landlord. Mrs. Patty had speculated about Mr. 
 Cameron then ; she speculated about him now — for she was 
 not quick at making up her opinion about any one ; and after 
 an acquaintance — it might be termed an intimacy — of fifteen 
 years, she did not feel that she knew him, or that she could 
 even be quite sure what he would say or do. What would 
 he feel about Myra ? Would he be anxious ? Was there 
 anything tender in his nature ? Were his children really 
 much to him ? He was very proud of Rosamond, and he was 
 proud of his sons ; he liked Annette's drawings, and would 
 sometimes laugh at Juliet's quick sayings. But was that real 
 affection — the affection which would stretch itself to include 
 Myra ? Mrs. Patty did not put the question to herself defi 
 nitely — it would have seemed wrong to suppose that a father 
 could be indifferent to any one of his children ; — but she felt 
 it — it pressed upon her uneasily ; and a saddened feeling 
 awoke in her heart a troubled tender yearning for the poor 
 little girl whom no one liked, who was entering upon life with 
 such grievous faults, such fierce self-will, passion, vanity, and
 
 22 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 selfishness, destined, it would seem, to be her own torment, 
 and the torment of her friends. And Mrs. Patty laid down 
 her knitting, and standing up, folded her hands, and said a 
 prayer for Myra Cameron — a prayer like that of a child in its 
 simplicity, but like that of a saint in its earnestness. 
 
 The wheels of a carriage were heard ; it drove up to the 
 door. Then followed a determined ring, and a rush amongst 
 the servants. Mr. Cameron was come. It was just the hour 
 at which he might be expected from London by the last train, 
 but Mrs. Patty was taken by surprise. She had meant to 
 have left the library before he arrived, lest she might be in the 
 way; but there was no mode of escape now without meeting 
 him. She caught a few words which passed between him and 
 the butler, and hoped he would go upstairs at once, for Mrs. 
 Cameron was in Myra's room. But no ; he came into the 
 library first. Mrs. Patty's candle had burnt low, and the wick 
 was long. Mr. Cameron failed to recognise her till she went 
 forward to greet him. 
 
 ' I am afraid I am in the way, Mr. Cameron ; I know I 
 ought to have gone, but I was a little anxious, so I stayed to 
 hear Mr. Harrison's report. I will go directly now.' 
 
 ' On no account ; pray seat yourself. Mrs. Patty Kingsbury 
 can never be in the way.' Mr. Cameron placed a chair on 
 one side of the table for Mrs. Patty, and another opposite 
 for himself, carefully snuffed the candle, rang the bell, and 
 sat down, his head bent forward a little, in the attitude of 
 listening. 
 
 He was a very handsome man ; dignified in person, and 
 courteous though stiff in manner. And he was very young- 
 looking ; no one would have imagined him to be fifty, or have 
 supposed that so many years had been spent in the exhausting 
 mental work and excitement of a barrister's profession. He 
 might have been a bachelor of forty, without a care beyond 
 himself, instead of a man who had been twice married, and 
 was called upon to take thought for six children. His stillness, 
 and slowness of utterance, no doubt contributed somewhat to 
 this impression. He always seemed to be at leisure, and now 
 he looked at Mrs. Patty with an inquiring gaze, which implied
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 23 
 
 that no doubt she had something to say, and he was prepared 
 to give it his full attention ; not allowing himself to be at all 
 disturbed by the fact that he had been engrossed with business 
 since ten in the morning, and had returned home weary and 
 hungry, with his head full of the news of the day, to find his 
 whole household in disorder, and one of his children seriously 
 ill. 
 
 Mrs. Patty, however, could think of nothing to say. She 
 nervously gathered up her knitting, and felt greatly relieved 
 when one of the needles fell on the floor, and she could stoop 
 to look for it. 
 
 'Allow me;' Mr. Cameron bent down after her. 'This 
 candle is not enough ; I have rung for a lamp.' 
 
 ' Oh ! not for me : indeed, Mr. Cameron, it can't signify ; 
 I am only staying just till Mr. Harrison oomes ; if you would 
 only kindly leave me ; our gardener is here, and is to walk 
 back with me. I really don't want anything, and you will be 
 longing to go upstairs and see Myra.' 
 
 ' Poor little Myra ! she unwisely fell into the water, I hear. 
 Was Miss Greaves with her, can you tell me ? ' 
 
 • No, not that I know of; I am sure not, indeed. The three 
 girls were down at the Rectory pond.' 
 
 ' Oh ! The accident was untoward. I am afraid it has 
 occasioned you trouble.' 
 
 ' Not me, Mr. Cameron ; if you just won't think of me, 
 but of Mrs. Cameron and the poor child. Myra is very ill, 
 and fevers are going about ; and no one knows what this may 
 turn to.' 
 
 The servant entered to answer the bell. Mr. Cameron took 
 no notice, but continued : ' The accident happened at the 
 Rectory pond, you said; and I suppose Myra was brought 
 home directly.' 
 
 ' Not brought, but walked,' replied Mrs. Patty. ' The acci- 
 dent would haye been a trifle, only — but it does not signify 
 now ; I would not on any account keep you from going up- 
 stairs. Mrs. Cameron will tell you all about it much better 
 than I can.' 
 
 'A lamp, John ! and the round table cleared for supper.
 
 24 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Mrs. Patty, you will excuse me, but a man who has been 
 fasting for ten hours feels somewhat hungry.' 
 
 ' No doubt, and you will wish me gone ; and as Mr. 
 Harrison is late, I suppose I ought to go. But poor little 
 Myra ! ' 
 
 ' We must hope that she will be better to-morrow. Have 
 you any commands for Mrs. Cameron before you return 
 home ? ' 
 
 Mr. Cameron rose, and as the servant came back with 
 the lamp, took up the solitary candle preparatory to going 
 upstairs. 
 
 Mrs. Patty had many commands, at least in the way of 
 imaginations and wishes, but they had fled, and left her brain 
 a blank. 
 
 'Good-night, Mr. Cameron; good-night!' She held out 
 her hand to him. ' I know I ought to go, and the Doctor will 
 wonder what has become of me.' 
 
 ' My compliments to the good Doctor,' said Mr. Cameron, 
 his mouth betokening a first effort at a smile. ' Permit me to 
 inquire if your servant is ready ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Patty's longings to run upstairs and see Mrs. Cameron, 
 or at least the lady's maid, and just to look at Myra, and per- 
 haps — if she could but hide herself in some corner — to wait a 
 little longer, in the hope of having Mr. Harrison's opinion, 
 were completely quenched. To get out of Mr. Cameron's 
 way — that was all she desired ; and that was all he desired 
 likewise.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 25 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 'Rosamond, mamma says that if Myra is not better, you can't 
 dine with the Verneys on Tuesday.' 
 
 Rosamond only smiled. 
 
 ' She does say so,' continued Juliet, ' so I don't see why you 
 should trouble yourself to practise so much ; it must be dis- 
 turbing to every one.' 
 
 ' It does not disturb me,' said Annette, ' I like it. Rosa- 
 mond, do you think this shade is too heavy ? ' 
 
 Rosamond left the piano directly, and looking over her 
 sister's shoulder, gave her opinion with an air of interest. 
 
 ' A little, dear ! at least at the edge ; it should melt off, you 
 see. Can I touch it for you ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Brownlow dislikes any touching,' said Juliet. 
 
 Rosamond made no reply, but took the brush from 
 Annette's hand. 
 
 1 Myra is worse this morning. Mr. Harrison says,' continued 
 Juliet, as she walked to the window. Leaning forward, she 
 looked out into the sunshine. ' I wish she had not been so 
 silly. I wish we had never gone to the pond.' 
 
 ' I wish Miss Greaves would come downstairs, and give you 
 something to do,' said Rosamond playfully. ' You are like a 
 disturbed buzzing bee, Juliet.' 
 
 'Very likely,' replied Juliet; 'but Mrs. Patty looks so 
 grave.' 
 
 ' I am glad I never put myself into such a passion as Myra,' 
 said Annette ; ' I heard Mr. Harrison telling Mrs. Patty, as 
 they were talking outside my door this morning, that half the 
 mischief came from her being so excitable.' 
 
 ' People always now call being in a passion being excitable ; 
 don't they, Rosamond ? ' asked Juliet. 
 
 ' Generally, in polite society,' observed Rosamond. 
 
 ' At Colonel Verney's, for instance,' continued Juliet. ' Myra 
 and I were talking the other day about the new words Mrs,
 
 26 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Verney uses. Self-appreciation, she said, was Catharine 
 Verney's characteristic.' 
 
 ' I suppose a characteristic is not a fault,' remarked 
 Annette. 
 
 ' If it is not, it is so like one that I should never know the 
 difference,' observed Juliet. ' Catharine Verney is as con- 
 ceited a girl as I ever met.' 
 
 ' She has a fair share of self-esteem,' replied Rosamond ; 
 ' but she will do very well by and by.' 
 
 ' You like all the Verneys,' said Juliet. 
 
 'So would you, my dear, if you knew them.' And the 'my 
 dear ' silenced Juliet — for the moment ; it showed such im- 
 measurable superiority. 
 
 ' Henrietta and Elise dress beautifully,' said Annette. ' It 
 nearly made Myra cry the other day when they came to call. 
 She said that if she were to live a thousand years she could 
 never look like them.' 
 
 ' No, never,' said Rosamond, with a quiet smile. ' See, 
 Annette, won't that do better ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! thank you, yes. That is quite different. But ' 
 
 Annette eyed her palette with a look of dismay. 
 
 ' It is not quite as clean as when I took it from you,' said 
 Rosamond ; ( but it is not the business of a palette to be very 
 clean.' 
 
 1 Or for an artist to have a very tidy tabk,' said Juliet. 
 ' Poor Annette ! how I pity you.' 
 
 Annette collected her colours and brushes, and wiped the 
 table with a piece of rag ; but when the operation was ended 
 she looked at her fingers with great disgust. 
 
 ' You must go and wash them, dear,' said Rosamond ; ' there 
 is no help for it. And I know you won't be happy till they 
 are washed.' 
 
 ' And you won't make the table untidy again while I am 
 gone, will you ? ' said Annette caressingly. ' You know, Rosa- 
 mond, if you do I shall have forfeits.' 
 
 ' Don't be afraid, dear child. I will take my sin upon my 
 own shoulders. Just run away, and make yourself happy.' 
 Rosamond still kept her place, and went on drawing.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 27 
 
 Annette was gone a long time ; so long, indeed, that Rosa- 
 mond was able to do wonders in improving the drawing. 
 Annette had great natural taste, but very little practice, and 
 she was only just beginning water-colours ; whilst Rosamond 
 drew remarkably well. 
 
 ' Here she comes ! ' exclaimed Juliet, when nearly half-an- 
 hour had elapsed. ' I wonder what she can have been doing ? ' 
 
 ' It is not Annette, it is Miss Greaves,' observed Rosamond ; 
 and she rose from her seat rather hurriedly, and going to a 
 distant part of the room, appeared to be looking for a book. 
 
 Juliet rushed up to Miss Greaves. 'Any news of Myra? 
 Is she better ? ' 
 
 ' Rather — at least we hope so. I have been sitting with 
 her, or I should have come to lessons sooner. But of course 
 you have been busy. I knew you could set to work with- 
 out me.' 
 
 Juliet scarcely heeded the last remark ; she caught hold of 
 Miss Greaves's dress, and said, in a voice broken with agita- 
 tion — 'Then they don't think they are sure now she will 
 
 get well ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Harrison thinks the fever has turned.' 
 
 Two large tears rolled down Juliet's cheeks, but she walked 
 to the window to hide them. 
 
 Rosamond sat reading, and Miss Greaves examined Annette's 
 drawing. Rosamond heard her murmur to herself, ' Wonder- 
 ful talent, certainly ! Mr. Brownlow will be immensely pleased. 
 Do come and look, Miss Cameron,' she added, addressing 
 Rosamond. ' Did you ever see anything more clever for a 
 beginner ? ' 
 
 Rosamond's mouth curled with amusement ; but she walked 
 gravely up to the table, and began expressing her astonishment 
 quite naturally. 
 
 ' Such a correct eye, and such a very decided touch,' con- 
 tinued Miss Greaves. 'And the drawing is a difficult one.' 
 
 ' Difficult and pretty,' observed Rosamond, turning the 
 conversation. ' It must be a view of Mont Blanc from the 
 bridge of St. Martin. Mr. Brownlow travelled in Switzerland 
 last year.'
 
 28 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 'Annette must go some day,' continued Miss Greaves, 'she 
 would make such charming sketches.' 
 
 ' Wonderful ; if they continue to improve at that rate,' said 
 Rosamond, still with a lurking smile, which Miss Greaves failed 
 to perceive. 
 
 Juliet had left the room. Probably the two tears had 
 multiplied faster than she was prepared for. Miss Greaves 
 found herself without either of her pupils. 
 
 ' I will go and look for Annette,' said Rosamond ; ' her fingers 
 must be^ clean by this time, and it is too tiresome for them both 
 to run away.' She persisted in her offer, though Miss Greaves 
 entreated her not to trouble herself. And a few minutes 
 afterwards Annette returned alone, full of apologies for being 
 absent ; — but the paint had stained her fingers, and there 
 was a spot on her dress ; and, in fact, Annette had been so 
 unhappy in her untidy schoolroom condition, that she had 
 not been able to resist the temptation of putting herself, as she 
 called it, thoroughly to rights. 
 
 ' Thoroughly to rights ' meant wearing a silk dress instead 
 of a cotton one ; but a love of neatness was so unusual a virtue 
 at Annette's age that it was difficult to find fault with it. Miss 
 Greaves accepted the apology, and praised the drawing ; and 
 Annette in like manner accepted the praise, and giving her 
 little governess a kiss, declared she was the most good-natured, 
 dear Miss Greaves that ever lived, and she should never like 
 any one to teach her half as well. So governess and pupil 
 were equally well satisfied with each other; and the lesson in 
 history, which succeeded the drawing, was satisfactory and 
 pleasant : — all the more so, probably, because poor Myra was 
 lying on her sick bed, and Juliet had in consequence no 
 temptation to exercise her powers of teasing. 
 
 Three days elapsed after the fever had, as Mr. Harrison had 
 stated, begun to turn, and during that time a messenger was 
 sent to the Hall regularly every morning, with ' Dr. and Miss 
 Kingsbury's compliments, and they would be glad to know how 
 Miss Myra was ; ' but Mrs. Patty herself carefully remained in 
 the background. 
 
 ' If persons don't do good where there is illness, they do
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 29 
 
 Wm SO keep out of the way, Patty,' was Dr. Kingsbury's 
 
 injunction, when his sister expressed a wish that she could 
 hear more details. And the advice was by no means new ; 
 for it was but carrying out the principle on which Dr. Kings- 
 bury had acted, and had compelled his sister to act, ever since 
 he came to Yare. 
 
 With a different rector Mr. Cameron would probably have 
 been at daggers drawn. If he lived at peace with his country 
 neighbours, it was only because he so awed them by his polite- 
 ness that they never approached him within offending distance. 
 But with the clergyman of the parish he was forced to be on 
 terms of more familiar intercourse, and disagreement would 
 have been inevitable if Dr. Kingsbury had not at once taken 
 up similar weapons of defence, and by entrenching himself in 
 unsociability courteously, put it out of Mr. Cameron's power 
 to compel him to do so uncourteously. Yet it was a line of 
 conduct adopted unwillingly. Dr. Kingsbury, though dry and 
 argumentative when questions of theology were presented to 
 him, was at heart a genial, friend-seeking, kindly old man, who 
 desired to accept his parishioners as his children ; or, if they 
 were too old for that, at least as his brothers and sisters. And 
 MrsT Patty was more than kindly. Except when on rare 
 occasions she took some strong prejudice, philanthropy was 
 her failing. As a general rule, she could have lovingly em- 
 braced the whole world — heathens and sinners — Mr. Cameron 
 included, if only he would have permitted it. He, however, 
 needed no tenderness, for he was neither a heathen nor a 
 sinner, but a most high-minded, liberal, upright English gentle- 
 man : a little stiff, a little cold, but respectable, trustworthy, 
 estimable, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot. 
 His was a reputation which had never known a flaw ; for from 
 the period when Mr. Cameron had reached the age of discre- 
 tion, until the present moment, no one had ever known him 
 commit an action which could be termed imprudent. Mrs. 
 Patty could not possibly expect to be on a familiar footing, and 
 to pass uncriticised and uncontemned by such a man. And 
 criticism is not pleasant ; unspoken, but felt criticism, is in- 
 deed peculiarly the reverse ; and even Mrs. Patty's simplicity
 
 3 o A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 was not proof against it. The check which unconsciously she 
 placed upon herself in Mr. Cameron's presence — the care she 
 took to avoid any expression of wonder, or interest, or affection 
 — to do or say nothing which could shock or surprise him — - 
 was the result of a self-control, which in another person might 
 have been the preparation for martyrdom. And yet she 
 offended, quite unknowingly, quite inadvertently, and very fre- 
 quently, and was so conscience-stricken in consequence — so very 
 penitent — the burden would really have been too great but for 
 the power of confessing to her brother. Dr. Kingsbury never 
 transgressed — nothing that he ever said or did excited the 
 courteous sneer which thrilled through poor Mrs. Patty's veins, 
 like a blast from an iceberg - but then, as Mrs. Patty once 
 observed to Faith— taking a personal rather than a theo- 
 logical view of her brother's character — ' The Doctor was born 
 to go straight to heaven, with no one to stop him — not even 
 Mr. Cameron.' 
 
 It was an infinite relief to her to be told, on the fourth day 
 of absence from the Hall, that Mr. Cameron was not only as 
 usual gone up to London, but was likely to remain in town 
 that night. She had then the whole day before her, and might 
 manage her business in the village, and inquire for Myra as 
 late as she liked, without any fear of being thought intrusive ; and 
 for once Mrs. Patty even considered it might be possible to leave 
 the Doctor to drink tea alone, if Faith would but take care 
 that his toast was buttered upon one side only. ' Too much 
 butter was so very bad for him ; and he was so absent he ate 
 whatever was given him, and might kill himself any day with 
 new bread, and never be a bit the wiser.' 
 
 ' You won't let your tea be too strong, Doctor, dear ? ' was 
 her last admonition, as she fidgeted about in his study, wishing 
 to make quite sure that everything was just as it should be, 
 and that whilst she was gone he could not possibly need any- 
 thing which she could get for him. 
 
 ' Faith can make it,' said the Doctor, without looking up 
 from his book. 
 
 ' Yes, Faith can make it ; but I fancied you might not like 
 that.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 31 
 
 ' I like anything, my dear. Are you going now ? ' 
 
 The Doctor was just then very deep in thought. 
 
 ' And you won't worry yourself if I am not home before half- 
 past nine ? I may be, but if they should want me it might be 
 awkward to come away.' 
 
 ' Stay as long as you like, my dear, and ' — Dr. Kingsbury 
 looked up and smiled — ' tell the little girl to get well as soon 
 as she can.' 
 
 'And to come and see you,' added Mrs. Patty. 'Ah, 
 Doctor, dear, she likes that ; so do most people.' 
 
 The Doctor put up his hand, twisted his brown wig, settled 
 his spectacles, and looking at Mrs. Patty with his head a little 
 upraised, said simply, ' Patty, you talk nonsense ; ' and then 
 he returned to his book, and Mrs. Patty went her way to the 
 Hall. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ' MyrA is really better, dear Mrs. Patty,' said Mrs. Cameron, 
 as the butler announced Miss Kingsbury ; ' she has left me 
 free to-day, and so you see I am resting.' 
 
 Mrs. Cameron generally was resting ; she. was not strong, 
 and really needed rest ; but the occasion present was always, 
 in her own eyes, an exception to the general rule of exertion. 
 
 ' Won't you sit down ? ' she continued, pointing to one 
 of the many luxurious chairs with which the boudoir was 
 furnished. 
 
 ' I should never be likely to get up again, if I did,' said 
 Mrs. Patty, drawing near the sofa, ' and I am not tired, 
 thank you ; I have only been into the village and back to- 
 day.' 
 
 'Ah ! you are such a Hercules, and so benevolent. My 
 poor little Myra has taken up a great deal of my time, Mrs. 
 Patty, and my thoughts too, I may say. Do sit down ; it will 
 make me more comfortable.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty sat down, though with evident unwillingness.
 
 32 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD 
 
 1 Mr. Cameron is gone to town • he won't return to-night. 
 I daresay the servants have told you ; and perhaps it may be 
 better he should not : he rather frightens poor Myra.' 
 
 ' No doubt,' escaped unconsciously from Mrs. Patty's lips. 
 
 ' And she is a trouble ; she has been a great trouble to 
 us always. Mr. Cameron feels this ; he is very considerate. 
 We have been talking a good deal about Myra. This illness 
 has been quite brought on by her own wilfulness ; and at her 
 age — she will be sixteen next month — it is too childish. I 
 could not have imagined it possible ; now could you, dear 
 Mrs. Patty?' 
 
 'No, indeed,' was Mrs. Patty's earnest 'reply. Myra had 
 been to her for years an unsolved problem. 
 
 ' And when she has been treated quite like a grown-up 
 girl,' continued Mrs. Cameron ; ' brought forward as the eldest 
 of my own children — even confirmed. You know we had her 
 confirmed last year, when we were at Hastings, because we 
 thought it might help to make her more of a woman in her 
 ways and tone of mind.' 
 
 It was a new view of the object of Confirmation, but Mrs. 
 Patty only said, ' The Doctor was sorry she was confirmed 
 away from home.' 
 
 'Ah ! he was very good and thoughtful for her; but you 
 see the opportunity came ; Elise Verney was there, and she 
 was a companion, and there were two or three other young 
 people about the same age, and as it was to be done, it was 
 as well it should be when there were several of them together. 
 And then the Bishop was not likely to be here for another 
 year — altogether, I knew dear Dr. Kingsbury would under- 
 stand ; and, as I said before, I did hope that the examination, 
 and the ceremony, and the whole thing, would have made an 
 impression — but I cannot see that it did.' 
 
 ' When I was young,' observed Mrs. Patty, ' I remember I 
 never liked to tell anybody what made an impression upon 
 me. So, perhaps, Myra thought more of her confirmation 
 than you imagine.' 
 
 ' Perhaps so ; no one can tell. But to confess the truth, 
 I have been disappointed, and so has Mr. Cameron, and he
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 33 
 
 is not a man to be trifled with ; in fact, things can't go on as 
 they are.' Mrs. Cameron looked so mysterious, that terrible 
 visions of threats and punishments floated through Mrs. 
 Patty's brain. ' I should not have mentioned the subject, 
 except to prepare you,' continued Mrs. Cameron. 'You will 
 find Myra much distressed. Her father has been talking to 
 her.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty rose suddenly from her seat : ' Perhaps I might 
 go to her ; I can find my way, and I shall knock very gently 
 — indeed I won't disturb her.' 
 
 'Oh no, you never can disturb any one! Would it trouble 
 you to move that screen, so as to shade my eyes ? And — I 
 beg ten thousand pardons — but if you could just ring the bell 
 for me, I can't stretch my arm far enough ; my coffee must be 
 ready, and I really feel quite exhausted. Poor little Myra, 
 she is too much for me always! We shall expect you to stay 
 to tea, dear Mrs. Patty ; or will you have anything now ? ' 
 
 The present invitation was declined, the future left uncer- 
 tain. Mrs. Cameron ordered her coffee ; and Mrs. Patty found 
 her way up the soft-carpeted stairs, and along the well-lighted 
 corridors of the first floor, to the narrower steps and dimmer 
 passage which led to what were known as the young ladies 
 rooms. 
 
 Myra's apartment was small, but by no means uncomfort- 
 able. It had a book-case, and a writing-table, and a high- 
 backed chair — sometimes designated easy — with shelves for 
 curiosities, and a recess, with a chintz curtain before it, which 
 made a closet for hanging dresses • and the window — though 
 so high that it could only be reached by a step — commanded 
 a view over the church, and the village, and the wood by the 
 side of the ill-omened pond, which had been the cause of so 
 much trouble. To the right of the window was the little bed, 
 the curtain being drawn round it so as to exclude the light ; 
 and Myra was lying with her face to the wall, so that she did 
 not see who it was that came in. 
 
 Mrs. Patty was as noiseless as she could be ; but the heavy 
 square-toed shoes would creak, and Myra uttered a rather im- 
 patient and complaining moan. 
 
 C
 
 34 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Mrs. Patty drew near the bed. ' Did I disturb you, my dear ? 
 I am so sorry; but these shoes are so tiresome; and I am 
 afraid you were asleep.' 
 
 'No!' was all the reply. 
 
 ( But trying to sleep, perhaps ; and so I might be better 
 away ? I only wanted just to give you one little kiss.' 
 
 Myra turned herself round now, though with some difficulty, 
 for she was very weak considering the short time she had been 
 ill. Mrs. Patty assisted her, not very handily ; but the good- 
 will could not be mistaken. Myra looked up, and said : ' Thank 
 you ; won't you sit down ? ' 
 
 'Just for a minute, my dear, if I may. And you really are 
 better? Going to get well now? I am so thankful for that, 
 and so is the Doctor.' 
 
 ' Nobody else cares,' said Myra. 
 
 ' My dear ! what will you say next ? Poor mamma is quite 
 worn out with anxiety about you.' 
 
 ' Worry,' said Myra; ' she and papa think I am the greatest 
 trouble in the house.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you are,' replied Mrs. Patty. Myra's head turned 
 angrily. ' But you don't mean to be so any more. Why, 
 Myra, this is the last silly thing you intend to do all your 
 life.' 
 
 ' How do you know, Mrs. Patty ? I can't help it ; and papa 
 declares I am wicked.' 
 
 ' For that matter, so are we all, my dear. Papa declares 
 what is very true.' • 
 
 'But really wicked — different from your wickedness — so 
 wicked that I can never be better,' exclaimed Myra. 
 
 ' There is a good deal to be said about that,' said Mrs. 
 Patty ; ' only, my dear, I won't talk to you about it now, 
 because you are not strong enough.' 
 
 ' Yes, I am quite strong enough ! ' exclaimed Myra 
 impatiently. ' I lie here and think, and no one comes near 
 me, and that tires me ; thinking is a great deal worse than 
 talking.' 
 
 f That depends upon what the thoughts are,' replied Mrs. 
 Patty. 'Anyhow, my dear, it is quite a new notion to me
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 35 
 
 about your being so wicked that you can never be better ; ' 
 and as she spoke, Mrs. Patty began to search about the room 
 — for what, she did not say. 
 
 ' Do you want anything?' asked Myra. 
 
 ' Only a Bible, my dear, just to make quite sure whether 
 what you said is true. It certainly strikes me that it is not ; 
 at least, it is not what I was taught.' 
 
 ' Papa says it,' persisted Myra ; ' and the Bible can't mend 
 matters.' 
 
 ' Can't it, my dear ? I find that it mends most things.' 
 
 ' But then papa says it,' repeated Myra, evidently almost 
 angry at the thought of having such a dictum disputed, espe- 
 cially when she had built an edifice of self-pity upon it. 
 
 ' Mr. Cameron is very clever/ replied Mrs. Patty ; ' but you 
 know, Myra, no one could say that he was cleverer than the 
 Bible. Besides — you can say your Catechism, my dear ? ' 
 
 ' I said it when I was confirmed,' replied Myra ; ' of course 
 I don't say it now.' 
 
 ' Well, but you remember you were taught there that you 
 have been made " a member of Christ, and a child of God, and 
 an inheritor of the kingdom of Heaven." And to my mind, the 
 Bible says the same.' 
 
 ' I don't know where,' answered Myra in a perverse tone. 
 
 ' There is a great deal about it in the Epistle to the Ephe- 
 sians,' said Mrs. Patty. ' It is the Doctor's favourite epistle; 
 he always makes me read it to him when he is ill. It is just 
 like the Catechism, only that seems to put the meaning of the 
 Bible into few words. I confess, Myra, I don't understand how 
 any one who is God's child can think as you do about never 
 improving.' 
 
 ' All that is for you good people,' said Myra ; ' and, Mrs. 
 Patty, you may just as well talk to the wall as to me, for I am 
 made to be bad ; and I have been bad all my life, and I shall 
 be to the end of the chapter.' 
 
 ' Well, I can only say that it is very strange,' said Mrs. Patty; 
 'and that I never heard any one talk so before.' 
 
 ' But it is true ! ' exclaimed Myra. ' If it never was true of 
 any one else, it is of me. I have tried, and tried, and made
 
 36 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 such s- number of resolutions, and they have all failed. Mrs. 
 Patty, I did wish to be good when I was confirmed, but I was 
 not able to be, and ' — Myra waited a moment, and added with 
 hesitation — ' I prayed to be helped ; but I don't think I was 
 helped.' 
 
 ' Don't you ? ' said Mrs. Patty ; * but now I should have said 
 just the contrary.' 
 
 ' What ! when I was always doing wrong again ? ' 
 
 ' And yet always wishing and praying to be able to do right,' 
 said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' Wishes ! what are wishes ? ' asked Myra contemptuously. 
 
 ' I suppose it is the Holy Spirit who gives them to us,' said 
 Mrs. Patty ; ' because you know, my dear, every good thing is 
 His gift. And if the prayers don't come from Him, where can 
 they come from ? ' 
 
 ' I don't understand ; it is all puzzling,' persisted Myra. 
 ' You talk about people being God's children, whether they are 
 good or wicked, and that can't be. And, Mrs. Patty, if I am 
 wicked, God cannot love me, and it is no use to tell me that 
 He can.' 
 
 < I don't find that in the Bible,' said Mrs. Patty. ' I always 
 thought it said there that " while we were yet sinners God 
 loved us." And certainly, dear, when you were made His 
 child at your baptism, you could not, so far as I see, have 
 been a good child, because you did not know anything about 
 being good or wicked.' 
 
 ' Well ! ' said Myra, looking still more perplexed. 
 
 ' Then isn't it that God makes us His children, and because 
 we are His children, gives us His love and His Blessed Spirit 
 just out of His great kindness? ' said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' But He takes His help away if we are wicked,' exclaimed 
 Myra eagerly. 
 
 ' Nay, not so, surely. He does not take it away, but we 
 don't choose to accept it.' 
 
 ' It comes to the same thing,' said Myra ; ' anyhow, we 
 don't have it.' 
 
 ' But we may, at any moment, if we only go and ask Him 
 for it again.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 37 
 
 'At any moment, if we only go and ask Him for it ! ' Myra 
 repeated the words in an undertone. 
 
 ' Surely, surely,' continued Mrs. Patty. ' He would not be 
 our Father if He was not always ready.' 
 
 ' But wicked people — people who deserved to be punished ? ' 
 said Myra. 
 
 ' I don't think we were talking of people's deserts, but of 
 God's forgiveness and help,' said Mrs. Patty. ' It isn't 
 pleasant, dear, to think of deserts, so we won't do it, except 
 when we remember what the Blessed Saviour did to save us 
 from them. Don't you see now,' she added more earnestly, 
 ' it is all wrong to say you can't, and you despair, and you are 
 out of God's favour; and very dreadful to say He won't help 
 you ? Because there God stands, close to you — close to you 
 and me now, Myra — waiting, and waiting, and putting it into 
 your heart to pray, and making you wish to be better, and 
 forgiving you however many times you do wrong, if only you 
 are sorry ; and you turn away to the wall, and will declare 
 that God won't love you, and won't hear you, and won't help 
 you ; and, Myra, that is the devil's teaching.' 
 
 Myra's eyes opened widely, as she said, ' Sometimes I 
 thought it was being humble.' 
 
 ' I daresay you did, my dear. The devil is very clever, 
 and makes us fancy a great many things good which are not 
 so ; at least, that is what the Doctor tells me. But though 
 I don't know much in the way of learning, I can see quite 
 plainly, that to be always telling God that He does not mean 
 what He says, is a very odd kind of humility.' 
 
 ' So I am worse than ever, then,' said Myra, in a tone which 
 was half angry and half desponding. 
 
 ' Well, yes, to be sure, if you continue to say what you do, 
 and to think it ; but perhaps, Myra, after this little talk you 
 may have a different notion.' 
 
 ' I can't ; it is not in me ; I must always be wicked,' per- 
 sisted Myra. 
 
 ' Very well, my dear, let it be if you wish it,' said Mrs. Patty. 
 ' But anyhow, you are God's child, and there is the fact, and it 
 can't be altered.'
 
 38 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' I shall not go to Heaven at all the more for that/ observed 
 Myra. 
 
 ' Certainly not, if you don't wish to go. I never heard that 
 God means to take any persons to Heaven against their will.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty stood up and drew her shawl together, as if she 
 was going away. 
 
 Myra caught hold of her dress. Tears stood in her eyes. 
 '-Mrs. Patty, I do wish it ; I wish it so very, very much ; you 
 can't tell how much.' 
 
 ' Then, my dear, Heaven is ready for you, that is all I can 
 say ; and, please God, I hope we shall spend many a long 
 day there together.' 
 
 ' Not days,' said Myra, and a smile came over her face, 
 '-■^ou know, Mrs. Patty, there will be no days in Heaven.' 
 i ' Which is one of the things I don't understand, my dear, 
 as there are a good many things about Heaven which are a 
 puzzle to me. But, Myra, let it be days or not days, it will 
 be very pleasant ; and if you and I should be so happy as to 
 be there together, I can't but think that we shall recollect this 
 talk we have had, and you will wonder how you could ever 
 have had such doubts of the Blessed Saviour's kindness. Now, 
 good-bye, my dear, and if nothing should come in the way, I 
 shall hope to see you again to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Only one more word, Mrs. Patty — please stay ; because — 
 I don't want to distrust, but wicked people are punished — they 
 must be punished. If I were going to die now, I could not 
 escape being punished.' 
 
 ' I don't see it,' was the reply. 
 
 ' O Mrs. Patty ! ' and Myra looked quite shocked. 
 
 ' I thought that Saviour means to save,' continued Mrs. 
 Patty. ' and that all the punishment was borne just because it 
 should not come upon us ; and I know, Myra, if I did not 
 think so, I should be just as frightened as you are.' 
 
 J But you would have no cause,' replied Myra ; 'every one 
 says that you are so very good.' 
 
 An expression of real pain crossed Mrs. Patty's usually 
 bright face. ' It does not do to talk so, my dear, but we will 
 let that pass. Only, if the Blessed Saviour is so kind to us,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF TUB WORLD. 39 
 
 it is not in nature not to try and be good and to please Him, 
 or not to be dreadfully sorry when one is not good. I think, 
 Myra, if you will just lie quiet a little, and think about it, you 
 will understand it better — especially, do you see, if you could 
 say a prayer to Him. It is wonderful how He makes things 
 clear to us when we do pray.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty stooped down and kissed Myra, and as the kiss 
 was returned, Myra whispered, ' O Mrs. Patty ! I love you 
 dearly ; ' but whether what had been said had also been 
 received and accepted, was left doubtful. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Mrs. Patty remembered as she went downstairs that she was 
 hungry, and that a substantial tea was most likely going on in 
 the dining-room. Mr. Cameron being away, she ventured to 
 find her way there. Rather a merry party was assembled — 
 Mrs. Cameron and Rosamond, Juliet, Annette, and the young 
 curate. Rosamond was making tea. Mr. Baines was handing 
 about the cups, perhaps a little officiously ; at least with a 
 manner which made Rosamond laugh at him in a very quiet 
 way. She never was anything but quiet — and simple too, 
 many persons would have said. She made room for Mrs. 
 Patty directly. 
 
 ' By me, please, dear Mrs. Patty,' and she pointed to an 
 empty seat. ' Mr. Baines, may I trouble you ? If you would 
 bring a plate from the sideboard, and a knife and fork too. 
 Mr. Baines is new in his employment, Mrs. Patty ; you must 
 forgive his awkwardness.' 
 
 Whether awkward or not, Mr. Baines was evidently in the 
 seventh heaven of felicity — ordered about, and permitted to 
 make himself quite useful and at home. Mrs. Patty began 
 talking about Myra — a very natural subject. ' It was so plea- 
 sant,' she said, ' to see her better, and to find her, upon the 
 whole, really making rapid progress.'
 
 40 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 'Delightful; quite a relief.' Rosamond looked into the 
 teapot and shook her head. ' Mr. Baines, be charitable once 
 more, and ring the bell. Mamma, do you hear that Mrs. Patty 
 thinks poor little Myra's improvement wonderful ? ' 
 
 1 1 don't see why she should always be called little Myra,' 
 said Juliet rather sharply. ' She will soon be as tall as you, 
 Rosamond.' 
 
 ' Not quite, I think. Mr. Baines, do you recollect our all 
 being measured when your sister was here ? ' 
 
 Mr. Baines remembered it perfectly. Miss Cameron was 
 the tallest of the young ladies. He had been measured also 
 himself on that occasion. 
 
 'And I think you were just the height of my brother God- 
 frey ? ' observed Rosamond. 
 
 » Half an inch taller,' and Mr. Baines almost involuntarily 
 elevated his head. Rosamond was remarkably tall, and he did 
 not wish her to look down upon him. 
 
 Mrs. Patty turned round upon him quickly. ' Mr. Baines, 
 you were at the school this morning, I can be nearly sure, 
 unless you have changed your day. Did you see Betsy Ford's 
 tall boy there ? ' 
 
 ' The one who is half an idiot? ' asked Juliet, breaking sud- 
 denly into the talk, which could scarcely be called conversation. 
 There was a laugh from several of the party ; merriest of all 
 from Rosamond. Mrs. Patty retained her gravity. 'The 
 Doctor thinks him quite an idiot ; and I was going to ask you, 
 Mr. Baines, if you would kindly see Betsy about him, and if it 
 should turn out that he is so, enough to be sent to the Asylum, 
 something could be done about it.' 
 
 ' I don't want him to be sent there,' said Rosamond ; ' he 
 makes himself so useful in sitting to be sketched. Don't you 
 recollect,' — and again she turned to Mr. Baines — 'that day 
 when I was drawing him, as he stretched himself on the bank 
 by the churchyard? It was the day of the terrific thunder- 
 shower, and when you lent me your umbrella.' 
 
 Mr. Baines recollected it perfectly : it was not likely, he 
 said, that he should forget it ; and he was rejoiced to find Miss • 
 Cameron's memory so good.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 41 
 
 Rosamond looked quite unconscious, and begged Mrs. Patty 
 to take a little marmalade. 
 
 'None, thank you, my dear. But I think, Mrs. Cameron, 
 you have a vote for the Idiot Asylum.' 
 
 ' I had last year — Mr. Cameron had, at least ; but I am not 
 sure now — it involved so much trouble ; every one was writing 
 and begging for it. I know we talked of giving it up.' 
 
 ' That would be a pity,' said Rosamond ; ' if I can't spare 
 my pet idiot, there will be many others to take his place.' 
 
 ' It must be that same boy whom Mr. Brownlow has put into 
 the drawing he offers us for a prize,' said Annette ; ' he told mc 
 he had sketched the figure from nature.' 
 
 'Are you drawing for a prize, my dear?' asked Mrs. 
 Cameron ; ' I never heard of that before.' 
 
 Annette slightly blushed. ' Not a prize, mamma, exactly ; 
 but Mr. Brownlow said that if either Juliet or I could do 
 another drawing as good as my last, his copy should be a 
 reward.' 
 
 ' I think every one has finished tea, mamma,' said Rosamond 
 abruptly, and half rising. ' Shall we go to the drawing- 
 room ? ' 
 
 There was a general move, and in passing out of the room, 
 Rosamond whispered to Annette: 'What a silly, little, con- 
 ceited thing you are ! Why could you not let the drawing 
 alone ? ' 
 
 Annette looked disconcerted, and jjst then Juliet also came 
 up to her, and said, ' You need not reckon upon Mr. Brownlow's 
 drawing, if you are to do another of your own like the last, 
 seeing that was more than half Rosamond's work.' 
 
 ' Nonsense !' exclaimed Rosamond; ' there were not more 
 than half-a-dozen strokes of mine.' 
 
 Juliet held up her hands in astonishment. 
 
 ' My love, you know nothing about it,' continued Rosa- 
 mond. ' You have been waiting upon Myra, and have never 
 seen me touch the drawing, except that one day when I showed 
 Annette where she was wrong in the shading. You should not 
 be envious, Juliet.' 
 
 Juliet's face flushed crimson, and she ran upstairs. Rosa-
 
 42 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 inond entered the drawing-room with that indescribable air of 
 subdued virtue which naturally accompanies the consciousness 
 of giving merited reproof. 
 
 A little more conversation about the drawing went on, but 
 all of a very safe kind. Mr. Brownlow's picture and Annette's 
 copy were brought forward and compared, and Mr. Baines 
 and Mrs. Patty admired, and did not venture to criticise. 
 Annette was pronounced a most promising artist, and in the 
 eagerness of excitement at the praise she was receiving, en- 
 gaged some day to do a drawing for Mr. Baines. Rosamond 
 kept at first in the background, only now and then putting in 
 a little remark, which showed how much more she knew about 
 drawing than any one else ; but it was curious to see how by 
 degrees she brought round attention to herself. At length het 
 own portfolio was produced, and her little scraps, as she called 
 them — the trifles which she had just thrown off on the spur of 
 the moment, which really were not worth looking at — were 
 turned over. And as Mrs. Patty did not care much about 
 them, and was anxious to talk to Mrs. Cameron about the 
 Idiot Asylum, it was, of course, quite natural and right that 
 Rosamond should be polite to Mr. Baines, and give him all 
 the explanations which were necessary to enable him to under- 
 stand the little scraps. Mr. Baines was remarkably interested 
 by them, and hinted, at last, that it would be such a great 
 favour — one he could scarcely venture to suggest — but if, some 
 day, Miss Cameron would give him an outline — he asked 
 nothing more — a mere outline of the village street, with the 
 curate's lodging, — it would be such a valuable reminiscence — 
 invaluable indeed. 
 
 Rosamond's answer was cold: ' her time was much occupied 
 — she never liked to promise ; but, no doubt, Annette would 
 try the sketch for him.' Poor Mr. Baines ! It was very cruel 
 upon him ; he was really a very shy and modest man, and it 
 was evident he had been guilty of a misdemeanour. He mur- 
 mured something not quite intelligible about pleasure, and 
 hope, and forgiveness, and was interrupted in the middle by 
 Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' Mr. Baines, I must wish you good evening, for the gardener
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 43 
 
 is waiting to go home with me, and the Doctor will want a 
 little looking after before he goes to bed.' 
 
 The curate, in his eagerness to escape from his position at 
 the table, stumbled over a footstool, and nearly fell at Mrs. 
 Tatty's feet. 'Oh! but, indeed, Mrs. Tatty, I can't let you 
 walk home alone. I was just thinking that I ought to be going, 
 and I shall be so happy if you will let me take charge of you.' 
 He glanced at Rosamond, but she was busy tying up her 
 portfolio. 
 
 ' We meet on Tuesday at Colonel Vcrney's, I suppose ? ' 
 said Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 ' Yes, I hope to have that pleasure ; ' and there was another 
 glance at Rosamond. ' I conclude, of course, you all dine 
 there ? ' 
 
 ' Mamma, I should prefer going in the evening, if I go at 
 all,' observed Rosamond indifferently. ' Dear Mrs. Tatty, may 
 I fetch your cloak and bonnet ? ' 
 
 ' They are in the hall, my dear ; I will go and put them on 
 there ; and Mr. Baines can join me, if he will be so civil to an 
 old woman.' 
 
 'Good-night, Mr. Baines ;' Rosamond held out her hand 
 very coldly. The poor curate scarcely dared to take it. If he 
 might only have endeavoured to make his peace. But his was 
 such a very small offence — he did not quite see why it should 
 have been one; but then he knew nothing about ladies. He 
 only felt they were made of wax, and were liable to be broken 
 at a touch ; so he tried to say, ' Good-night,' just in Rosamond's 
 tone — and hoped he had succeeded. But if he had watched 
 Rosamond's smile, as she followed Mrs. Tatty to the Hall, he 
 might have discovered that he had failed.
 
 44 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Myra Cameron was called ' little Myra,' and treated like a 
 child. A strange inconsistency, when she was sixteen. No 
 one felt it more than Myra herself. And it might have been 
 even more strange if she had understood herself. But if Myra 
 was a problem to her friends, still more was she one to her own 
 heart. Of all the inmates of Yare Hall, there was not one who 
 thought so much, read so much, or felt so much, as Myra. 
 Even when she fed her imagination with fiction, the fiction 
 was digested and reproduced so as to become her own posses- 
 sion — to be part of the world in which she lived. She never 
 simply received ideas ; they were pondered upon, and analysed, 
 though quite unconsciously, and the experience of daily life was 
 brought to bear upon them and to be their test. No one was 
 a keener observer of inconsistencies, no one more quick at 
 discovering discrepancies between principle and practice ; but 
 this very quickness was a stumbling-block in Myra's path. 
 She was so alive to the peculiarities of others, that she thought 
 very little of her own, except when they brought her into 
 public notice. Then she shrank from them with a sensitive- 
 ness which was morbid. To be told that she was awkward 
 was distressing, but to be accused of being affected was al- 
 most torture. There were times, and those not few, when 
 Myra would willingly have rushed away from the pleasantest 
 party and the most amusing companionship, and shut her- 
 self up in solitude for hours — not from temper, though it 
 certainly would have been called such ; neither from wounded 
 vanity, though it might have borne such an appearance ; but 
 from the mere desire to be where no one could make a remark 
 upon her, even in the way of praise. Not that Myra was in- 
 sensible to praise. When implied, she could enjoy it ; when 
 written, it was delightful to her; but spoken praise was suffer- 
 ing. And Myra had not sufficient self-esteem to support her
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 45 
 
 against the consciousness of her own external defects. What 
 she was told of herself she received as undoubted truth ; and 
 certainly there were facts within her own consciousness to 
 corroborate what she knew to be the general impression of 
 her character. Bad temper, and that not merely a passionate, 
 but a fretful and peevish temper, was a fault which it was im- 
 possible to deny. Selfishness also was an accusation not to 
 be gainsayed, for Myra knew perfectly well how alive she was 
 to what she called her own rights, and how determined upon 
 asserting them, whether they interfered with those of others 
 or not. And vanity also she would at once have pleaded guilty 
 to, only she would not have allowed that it was vanity which 
 made her what people called affected ; but the thing which 
 perplexed her, which gave her a sense of injustice — a wounded, 
 isolated feeling of being misunderstood by others, and not even 
 understanding herself — was the nobler spirit beneath. Child 
 she was, wayward, and foolish, and ungoverned in temper and 
 in wishes ; but even as Myra owned herself to be such — even 
 whilst she talked and acted as if she neither professed to be 
 nor wished to be anything better — a truer voice whispered to 
 her in the depths of her own heart, that she was not a child ; 
 that she had longings and aspirations, dreams of goodness and 
 beauty, an appreciation of all things 'just, and pure, and 
 lovely, and of good report,' which, if examination were made, 
 would be found wanting in those who were the most keen- 
 sighted to her defects, and the loudest in her condemnation. 
 
 So up to this hour had Myra lived in the weariness of this 
 perpetual conflict between her opposite characteristics. It 
 can scarcely be wondered at that her existence was for the 
 most part solitary. It was only when alone that she was her 
 better self, and therefore only when alone that she could find 
 rest — such rest, at least, as could be obtained from the opiates 
 of study and imagination. 
 
 The two may seem somewhat incompatible ; an imaginative 
 is generally considered to be the opposite of a studious mind : 
 but that one faculty, which perhaps had saved Myra from being 
 cast off as hopeless by all who undertook to manage her — the 
 faculty of persevering industry — had, through the whole of her
 
 46 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 short life, been curiously co-existent with a vivid delight in 
 poetry, and an enjoyment which even amounted to what 
 might be termed revelling in fiction. It seemed, indeed, as 
 if a portion of the same excitement which made her lose her- 
 self in the story which she was reading, was awakened also by 
 the stimulus of study. 
 
 What Myra once undertook to learn, absorbed her as though 
 it had been a novel. And she did undertake many things in 
 an irregular way. Her education had been imperfect and 
 desultory ; she had been taught by a succession of governesses, 
 and in spite of her temper and constant punishment, had 
 managed to acquire such an amount of information as would 
 enable her to pass well in society ; but this was not sufficient 
 to satisfy her. She had a craving for more knowledge, and 
 a consciousness of being superficial, and since no one else 
 undertook to teach her thoroughly, she was compelled to teach 
 herself. 
 
 A strange medley of old books was to be found in Myra's 
 room. Withering's l Botany,' and a Spanish Grammar and 
 ' Don Quixote,' side by side with Watts on ' The Improvement 
 of the Mind,' Abercrombie on ' The Moral and Intellectual 
 Powers,' Bacon's ' Essays,' Russell's ' Modern Europe,' Miss 
 Burney's novels, Sir Charles Grandison, De Foe's 'History of 
 the Plague,' ? The Old English Baron,' and ' The Arabian 
 Nights' Entertainments ' — not all very desirable reading, but 
 seized upon by Myra because she had heard the books spoken 
 of, and was determined to find out for herself what they were 
 like. And they were all read and studied in turn. Myra was 
 gradually emerging from schoolroom restraints, and was 
 allowed to manage her time, upon the whole, very much as 
 she liked ; and with her love of solitude she was always making 
 an excuse to escape from public engagements, and praying to 
 be allowed to enjoy herself in her own way. Of course no 
 one was admitted to a share in her occupations, or even told 
 anything about them. Myra would have endured no small 
 amount of physical pain rather than confess to any one that 
 she liked reading deep books, and she was thoroughly ashamed 
 of her love of fiction ; and as for asking for any particular
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 47 
 
 author, she would far rather have been supposed to be playing 
 with a doll. The volumes she had in her possession had been 
 collected surreptitiously in her wanderings about the house, 
 and whilst searching into the contents of bedroom book-cases 
 and old closets. Mr. Cameron had a very excellent library, 
 but his children were never allowed to touch a volume. It 
 was one of his strictest rules. The moment a child handled 
 a book he considered it spoilt, and only fit to be given up to 
 the nursery ; and it was to this rule that Myra owed the 
 possession of the 'Arabian Nights,' a very handsome copy in 
 four octavo volumes, which in some moment of weakness had 
 been taken from the shelves by Mrs. Cameron, during her 
 husband's absence, in order that she might read a story to the 
 children, and being carried off into the schoolroom, had been 
 found there on Mr. Cameron's return, and from thenceforth 
 abandoned to its fate. The enchantment of the 'Arabian 
 Nights' was over, however, now; Myra knew the tales by 
 heart, and thought of them only when — as sometimes happened 
 — she was called upon to entertain a stray little visitor by 
 telling a story. Then the histories of Prince Houssain, Prince 
 Achmet, and Prince AH, the Little Hunchback, and the Forty 
 Thieves, to say nothing of the Wonderful Lamp, were invalu- 
 able ; whilst the Pilgrimage of the Prince who was sent to 
 fetch the Golden Water, and was compelled to stop his ears 
 to the taunts of the unhappy travellers who had on previous 
 occasions been turned into stone, and were resting on the 
 mountain side, lingered in her memory, she knew not why, 
 but perhaps to come forth at some future time with that im- 
 pressiveness of a deep moral, which we all feel so keenly 
 when, as years roll on, it is discovered by ourselves as inherent 
 in some childish legend. 
 
 And Myra gained something also from the library, debarred 
 from it though she was ; it gave her the titles of books, a 
 knowledge which at first sight may appear absolutely useless, 
 but which can never really be so. She learnt, for instance, 
 that Sir John Malcolm had written a History of Persia,. and 
 Boswell a Life of Johnson, and Middleton a Life of Cicero ; 
 she recognised Bossuet and Bourdaloue, and Massillon and
 
 4 3 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Fenelon, as French standard writers ; she knew Fielding and 
 Smollett by sight, and was quite aware that Hume had written 
 something besides the History of England. And her respect 
 for dictionaries — generally regarded as the meanest species of 
 school-book, and delivered over to any amount of ink and 
 dog's ears — had been nurtured till it had actually become 
 veneration, by seeing the goodly array of splendidly-bound 
 volumes, from the Dictionnaire de l'Acade'mie Franchise, to 
 those of Spanish, Portuguese, Chinese, Hebrew, Sanscrit, and 
 all other known and unknown languages, which it had been 
 Mr. Cameron's pride to collect, and which were always pointed 
 out to his friends as the choicest collection in England. 
 
 This mere acquaintance with facts might no doubt have 
 been useless to the majority of young girls, but with Myra a 
 fact was the material by which the soil of her mind was 
 gradually becoming enriched. The outsides of books were 
 only one degree less real than the outsides of the persons who 
 wrote them. The names which would have made no impres- 
 sion when learnt as a schoolroom list of celebrated authors, 
 became realities when they daily met her eye on the library 
 shelves. And so, when at any time a reference was made to 
 these authors, either by Mr. Cameron or the friends who 
 visited him, Myra's attention was arrested. She would sit in 
 the corner apart, working perhaps at some never-ending piece 
 of embroidery, which was always her company-work, whilst 
 listening to the arguments or discussions which were going on, 
 and gaining more by the working of her own powers, the 
 struggle to understand what no one thought of explaining to 
 her, than she could have done from the lecture of the most 
 learned professor, who would have solved her difficulties in a 
 conversation of a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Even the outward appearance of the library books was not 
 without its effect upon her. In these days we are ceasing to 
 regard external richness as any tribute to the internal merits of 
 a volume. Whilst our best writers are content with sober- 
 coloured cloth, we array ' Tom Thumb ' in morocco, and dress 
 ' Puss in Boots ' in calf and gilding. The outward signs of 
 reverence are no longer recognised. But in this respect Mr.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 49 
 
 Cameron was a gentleman of the old school. He prized his 
 rare editions, and large paper copies — he loved to trace the 
 pedigree of his time-stained volumes — he delighted in broad 
 margins, and detested small type; and when he laid his old 
 quarto on the table and carefully turned every leaf at the top, 
 and then, opening it further, pointed out the manner in which 
 the book, so perfectly well-bound, lay back of itself, requiring 
 nothing to keep it open, there was somewhat of a personal 
 tenderness for the material form, apart from the thoughts con- 
 veyed by them, which it was impossible to watch without being 
 impressed by it. Every man, it is said, has some soft place 
 in his heart. Mr. Cameron's softness was shown towards his 
 books. 
 
 He had no idea of influencing Myra ; he was not a man 
 who troubled himself about influencing any one, except when 
 he was pleading in court ; but he did influence her very 
 materially. She was growing up unconsciously with much of 
 his feeling upon this point ; and the reverence, which was 
 not very strongly developed in her naturally, was fostered by 
 this one exhibition of it in a degree which will probably be 
 unknown to the next generation. The cheap editions of 
 Bacon's ' Essays ' will scarcely become the heirlooms of 
 memory to our children. 
 
 Yet, with all this love of study and appreciation of books, 
 Myra was not considered clever, in the ordinary sense of the 
 word ; nor, indeed, had she any strict right to be so called. 
 Cleverness, though its definitions are various, is, perhaps, 
 generally accepted as meaning quickness in receiving ideas, 
 and aptness in making use of them. Myra was neither very 
 quick nor very apt ; in some things she was decidedly dull, 
 and in the opinion of society, Rosamond would undoubtedly 
 far excel her. And she had not even that fair appreciation of 
 her own powers which would enable her to make the most of 
 them. She had no dreams of distinction, no youthful visions, 
 of authorship and fame. Not being aware of having thoughts 
 or ideas worthy of preservation, it was impossible for her to 
 put them down upon paper. And then she had a vague sense 
 of its not being a woman's business to write. One thing she 
 
 D
 
 50 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 was quite sure of, that no woman had ever attained to the 
 dignity of a quarto edition in morocco, much less in Russia 
 leather, and any dignity beneath this would not have been 
 worth striving for. 
 
 So Myra listened, and studied, and thought, and gave way 
 to her temper, and selfishness, and vanity, and was a child in 
 her own estimation, and a very troublesome and disagreeable 
 one in the estimation of her friends ; because she had not yet 
 learnt the truth which, sooner or later, must come home to us 
 all, that the moral powers are the multipliers of the intellectual 
 — that the cleverest man, or the most gifted genius, unable to 
 govern his own temper, and control his own impulses, is, so 
 far as he yields himself to those impulses, nothing better than 
 an infant ; and that in the race of life he will most certainly 
 be outstripped by men far inferior to himself in mental 
 capacity, but able to keep the balance which he has lost, and 
 to exemplify those deep words of Scripture — ' He that ruleth 
 his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city.' 
 
 But a new phase of inward existence was dawning upon Myra. 
 
 We all have granted us, from time to time, fresh starting- 
 points in life ; but there is not one so marked as that which is 
 associated with our first vivid apprehension of the fact that 
 God loves us. Men call this apprehension by different names; 
 they attach to it different degrees of importance. This is not 
 the place for entering upon such a controverted subject ; but 
 one thing is known and acknowledged by all alike, that to 
 confess such a belief by the lips is one thing, and to receive 
 it into the heart another ; that in the one case it is a mere 
 formula, whilst in the other it becomes the most powerful of 
 all motives — the one all-embracing principle which meets 
 every difficulty and every temptation in life. Myra Cameron 
 did not hear Mrs. Patty's declaration of her religious creed 
 for the first time in that one conversation after her illness ; 
 she had been told the same truths often before, as applying 
 to mankind generally, but it had always seemed as if some 
 special exception had been made to her own disadvantage. 
 When a very little child, she was assured that God loved good 
 children ; but the assurance was always accompanied by the
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 51 
 
 reminder that she was a very naughty one. It was as it" a 
 mirror was continually being held before her, in which she 
 might see her own misdeeds ; and her poor little weak efforts 
 to do better were not perceptible amidst the mass of evil ; or 
 if sometimes it crossed her mind that she was not quite so bad 
 as people thought her, that when she was alone she did wish 
 to be good, though when she was with others she was always 
 doing wrong, her comfort was checked by the recollection that 
 wishes were nothing, prayers even were nothing, actions were 
 the only test ; and her actions — it was better not to think about 
 them. 
 
 What comfort could it be to Myra to be called upon to 
 repeat, Sunday after Sunday, that she was 'a child of grace/ 
 when the fact impressed upon her by every one in the house, 
 and confirmed by her own consciousness, was that she was ' a 
 child of wrath ? ' 
 
 People do not often get rid of such an impression about 
 themselves suddenly ; young people especially do not. Myra 
 felt when Mrs. Patty left her that she was not quite so unhappy 
 as she had been before, but she had no idea that there was 
 any real change in her own principles. It was only that Mrs. 
 Patty was so good and kind, and thought well of every one ; 
 and if she could believe that God would be as merciful as Mrs. 
 Patty, there would be some hope. But then He knew so much 
 better what her faults were. To be sure He knew also how 
 miserable they made her, and how much she longed to get rid 
 of them ; but that was all nothing ; her father had said so 
 only that very day, before he went off to London, and of course 
 he knew much more about her than Mrs. Patty. 
 
 Thus Myra tried to reason herself out of comfort, and in 
 spite of her reason was comforted. The mere thought that 
 some one believed she could do right, was like a strengthen- 
 ing cordial to her crushed spirit. For this last failure and 
 folly had completely crushed her. Pride alone rendered her 
 ashamed of herself, and her natural morbid shrinking from 
 observation caused the thought of the remarks which would, 
 she was sure, be made upon her, to be almost unendurable. 
 But for Mrs. Patty's few words, Myra would have been
 
 52 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 despairingly wretched. As it was, she lay still, trying to recall 
 the conversation ; and rinding herself unable to recollect all, 
 she turned, as an assistance to her memory, to the epistle 
 which Mrs. Patty had said was Dr. Kingsbury's favourite. 
 Certainly, so Myra thought, if he liked it, it could have 
 nothing to do with her, for he was standing on the highest 
 pinnacle of perfection, whilst she had not even begun to 
 ascend the lowest step of the ladder which led to it ; but, at 
 any rate, there would be some interest in reading it, and people 
 were always told to read the Bible when they were ill. 
 
 Myra read ; and as she read, thought of Dr. Kingsbury and 
 Mrs. Patty, and, for the first time, the words excited her 
 imagination — that imagination which was always ready to be 
 worked upon by stirring descriptions or appeals to the heart. 
 They carried her into far-off worlds, — the heavenly places, 
 which, it might be, were to be found among the stars that 
 night after night she was accustomed to watch as she lay in 
 bed. They told of glory, and greatness, and power ; of a 
 dominion above all other dominion ; of the ' exceeding riches 
 of God's grace ; ' and of those who, from being ' strangers and 
 foreigners,' were now ' fellow-citizens with the saints and of the 
 household of God.' Myra laid down the book, for she was 
 weary, and much there was which it was hard to understand ; 
 but as she closed her eyes, and thought became more and more 
 an effort, there mingled with the recollection of the words she 
 had been reading, others — sounding as their clear and most 
 sweet echo — which brought faint visions of a golden city, and 
 jewelled gates, and the river of the water of life; and Myra 
 fell asleep.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 53 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ' Dr. and Miss Kingsbury's compliments, ma'am, and if you 
 are going to Colonel Vcrney's they will call for you at twenty 
 minutes past six, and give you a seat in their fly.' 
 
 Faith put her head in at the door of Miss Medley's parlour, 
 and surprised that lady in the act of taking off her cap and 
 arranging her grey curls. 
 
 'Wait a minute ! dear me ! ' (Miss Medley's eye sought for 
 her cap in the far corner of the room), ' where can it be ? On 
 the floor ? In the chair ? Where can I have put it ? One 
 minute, Faith ! On my head, to be sure ! What shall I do 
 next ? Come in ; pray come in.' Faith entered — so far at 
 least as she could, whilst still holding by the handle of the 
 door. 
 
 ' Please to shut the door, Faith ; draughts are so dangerous. 
 Twenty minutes past six, did you say ? It is very kind of Dr. 
 Kingsbury. I really think I must accept the benevolent offer. 
 But is the Doctor well enough to dine out ? ' 
 
 ' He is better than he has been for this month past, ma'am. 
 He has been ordered to take a little brandy with his dinner, 
 and it does him a world of good.' 
 
 'Alas ! A man so excellent ! not to perceive the necessity 
 of abstaining, if only for example's sake. But it is like all 
 men j quick as lightning to see others' duties, slow as snails 
 to see their own. Dinner parties are sad temptations, Faith.' 
 
 ' To be sure, ma'am. May I tell the Doctor, then, that you 
 mean to go ? ' 
 
 ' You may assure him I will be ready. Time was, Faith, 
 when I avoided dinner-parties, but it is different with me now. 
 So it would be with the good Doctor if only he would per- 
 severe. But brandy ! it is very sad — very sad indeed.' Faith 
 compressed her lips, evidently not trusting herself to reply. 
 Miss Medley continued — ' The Doctor, I suppose, will leave 
 early ; late hours are so very injurious.'
 
 54 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 1 The Doctor and Mrs. Patty most times leave at ten, 
 ma'am ; but somebody said there was like to be some dancing 
 at the Colonel's to-night.' 
 
 ' What ! with the Doctor there ! O Faith ! indeed you 
 must be mistaken ! ' 
 
 'As to that, ma'am, I don't know why I should be. I've 
 heard Mrs. Patty say, that in his young days the Doctor could 
 show off in a hornpipe with the best, and, indeed, danced so 
 well that he was had out before all the company at a dancing- 
 school ball, and did the toe-and-heel step and the shuffle in a 
 way as was quite surprising.' 
 
 ' But not now, Faith ; Dr. Kingsbury has to consider the 
 dignity of his cloth.' 
 
 Faith's countenance showed a little perplexity, as she replied : 
 ' Well, to be sure, I did think of that myself ! The Doctor's 
 coat is just new, and dancing is very dusty" work; and it did 
 come across me that the brushing and rubbing afterwards 
 wouldn't be good for it. But if I could be quite sure, ma'am, 
 that dancing was to be, I'd persuade Mrs. Patty to give him 
 his second-best ; he doesn't know one from the other, good 
 man, himself.' 
 
 ' And so far he is an exception to his sex. Men are vain, 
 Faith — much more vain than we have any idea of. I have a 
 nephew, who used to spend half an hour every day arranging 
 his neck-tie: but he is in India, poor fellow!' and Miss 
 Medley sighed heavily. ' Dr. Kingsbury, you say, will leave 
 before the dancing begins ? ' 
 
 ' Dear me, ma'am, no ; just the contrary. He takes pleasure 
 in seeing the young people merry : and it's my belief, that if 
 the dancing is late, he may be late too.' 
 
 The possibility was so alarming to Miss Medley's regularity, 
 that she found herself compelled to sit down ; and as Faith 
 turned, apparently with the intention of going, she said, in a 
 hurried tone : ' Pray wait — one moment only ; I won't detain 
 you, but I must consider. If the fly were to come for me first, 
 if I were to return alone — eighteenpence they would charge — 
 it would be eighteenpence, I think, Faith?' 
 
 ' I can't say, ma'am ; but the Doctor would be very sorry
 
 A GLIMPSE OF TUB WORLD. 55 
 
 for you to trouble yourself upon such a matter as that. He 
 and Mrs. Patty would be sure to let you come away whenever 
 you choose. It's not like the Doctor to be putting his own 
 pleasure in the way of other people's.' 
 
 ' Not at all. He is a very remarkable instance of masculine 
 unselfishness. You will appreciate such an exception more 
 and more, Faith, as life brings you experience. But this matter 
 
 of returning — it may be better to leave it. Possibly ^011 
 
 said, I think, Faith, that there would be a large number of 
 dancers ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know that I said anything about it, ma'am ; but 
 there's Mr. Charles, the Colonel's nephew, just come from 
 India, and the young gentlemen, Master John and Master 
 William, home for Easter — that makes three ; and then there's 
 Mr. Edmund and Mr. Godfrey Cameron come down to the 
 Hall — so I heard just before I came in here ; and what with the 
 Miss Verneys, and the niece who is there for the holidays, and 
 Miss Cameron, and the other young ladies as are sure to be asked 
 to the Colonel's — there will be such a number of young folks 
 that Mrs. Patty said to me, as she gave me the message for 
 you, they would be pretty nearly certain to dance ; and if they 
 did, the Doctor had such a fancy for music, and for seeing 
 the young folks enjoy themselves, he'd be sure to be late. 
 That's the long and the short of the matter, ma'am : but to 
 think of its coming in your way never entered anybody's head ; 
 and I make bold to say you can leave at half-past nine if you 
 wish it.' 
 
 ' Oh no, Faith ! To break up the party — I could not do 
 that. And I should like to see Mr. Verney. I am deeply 
 interested in everything connected with India : yet it perplexes 
 me. Are you going into the village ? ' 
 
 ' I've been thinking of it, ma'am ; but I had not quite 
 decided.' 
 
 'If you were going, — perhaps four yards of ribbon, peach- 
 coloured satin — or gauze and satin might be best ; — Lane has 
 some, I know ; — it would brighten my cap. I am not used to 
 gay parties, Faith ; and they don't agree with me. But camo- 
 milla is very soothing : it enables me to do many things now
 
 $6 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 which I never could do before : I never go anywhere with- 
 out it.' Miss Medley dived into her pocket and took out 
 a tiny bottle. ' Tinctures are best ; but in their absence, 
 globules. 5 
 
 It was like presenting a pocket-pistol to Faith : she turned 
 suddenly round, and, with a hasty • Good morning, ma'am ; I 
 will leave the ribbon as I return,' departed. 
 
 Stormont was the name of Colonel Verney's house. It was 
 a mile and a half from Yare, and was considered rather the 
 show-place of the neighbourhood ; for it had a grand hall, a 
 very fair gallery of pictures, and a museum of Chinese curiosi- 
 ties, all exhibited to the public on certain days. Otherwise it 
 was an uninteresting place, with but a few acres of park about 
 it, and possessing no remarkable beauty either in the grounds, 
 the gardens, or the view. 
 
 Colonel Verney was the most open-hearted and hospitable 
 of country gentlemen ; in politics a Whig — so far, at least, as 
 Whiggism can still be considered to exist ; in religion a professed 
 Churchman, with as kindly a leaning towards dissent as was 
 necessary for the sake of consistency with his political creed. 
 He was a very popular man in the neighbourhood ; indeed all 
 the family were popular, except, perhaps, Mrs. Verney, and 
 she was an exception only in the eyes of a few persons, amongst 
 whom Myra was included. Mr. Cameron and Colonel Verney 
 differed in politics, and this antagonism might have resulted 
 in an open feud, had not the punctilious politeness of the 
 former served as a check upon the ebullitions of temper of his 
 good-natured though irritable opponent. Mr. Cameron was 
 once heard to say to his boys, when, after an open fight and 
 very abusive language, they were brought before him to be 
 punished : ' Quarrel, boys, if you will : at your age I did it 
 myself; but quarrel like gentlemen.' A very worldly-wise man 
 was Mr. Cameron. This principle of quarrelling like a gentle- 
 man had served him in good stead on many trying occasions, 
 and none more trying than when he was brought into open 
 opposition to his nearest neighbour, Colonel Verney. One of 
 the very few boasts which he had ever been heard to utter was, 
 that throughout the many electioneering and magisterial con-
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 57 
 
 tests in which they had been engaged, he had never uttered a 
 word for which he could be called upon to make an apology. 
 
 Not so Colonel Verney ; his words were hasty, his language 
 strong, his epithets far from choice. He prided himself upon 
 saying what he thought , it was the privilege of a free English- 
 man ; but then, unfortunately, he very often said what he did 
 not think, and it was on such occasions that Mr. Cameron 
 gained the advantage. ' I leave to Colonel Verney the com- 
 mand of words, and reserve to myself the command of temper,' 
 was his reply to a very violent speech made by the former at 
 an important public meeting : and the Colonel succumbed to 
 the sarcasm, and not being gifted with that most rare and 
 noble characteristic, the power of owning that he had been 
 wrong, never recovered the ground he had lost, nor was again 
 able to hold a position in the county of equal influence with 
 that of Mr. Cameron. 
 
 The two Miss Verneys, or, as Miss Medley always took 
 pains to call them, the Misses Verney, were bright and pleasant 
 in manner, and partook of much of their father's goodnature. 
 Henrietta, who was about one-and-twenty, was the useful — 
 Elise, who was three years younger, the ornamental — sister. 
 And there were, as Faith had said, two brothers at Eton, rather 
 commonplace, but perhaps all the more likely to be favourites 
 in general society, since they excited no envy and aroused no 
 criticism. Colonel Verney's family might, indeed, have been 
 a pattern of prosperous ease and self-content if only Mrs. 
 Verney would have consented to leave it to itself; but the 
 elements of ambition and energy which were wanting in her 
 children existed strongly in herself. The world, her own little 
 world especially, was regarded by her not as it was, but as it 
 should be. She had an ideal for everything and everybody, 
 and, unlike the generality of idealists, she spared no efforts to 
 convert her fiction into a reality. Good, sensible, rather blunt 
 Henrietta, essentially practical and matter-of-fact, was to be 
 the deep-thinking studious daughter ; and pretty bright little 
 Elise, with her rather sentimental drawl, and taste for flower- 
 painting and English ballads, was to be the graceful and artistic 
 one. Both were treated accordingly. And so with all her
 
 53 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 friends. To hear Mrs. Verney converse, it might have been 
 supposed that she lived in the midst of the most peculiar and 
 attractive specimens of her fellow-creatures. Such germs cf 
 genius, and thought, and beauty, and taste were to be dis- 
 covered amongst them ; only all requiring development, and 
 that not in the course of God's Providence, in the ordering o 
 their lives, but from her own especial dictation. The Stor- 
 mont neighbourhood, with some few exceptions, such as Dr. 
 Kingsbury, Mrs. Patty, and Myra, submitted to this dictation. 
 All neighbourhoods will in course of time submit to any dicta- 
 tion, if it is accompanied by a little flattery. How, for instance, 
 could Mrs. Cameron resist Mrs. Verney's influence in her 
 family arrangements, when she was always hinting to her that 
 she had a susceptible poetical temperament, and that her 
 indolence was the reaction of intense feeling jarred upon by 
 the roughnesses of life ? Mrs. Cameron quite fell in love with 
 herself as she lay on her sofa, pondering upon the vision 
 which Mrs. Verney had presented to her. And the generality 
 of Mrs. Verney's friends were equally self-enamoured. Even 
 Mr. Cameron had been surprised with the consciousness of his 
 'self-sustained, elevated individuality ' (Mrs. Verney delighted 
 in long words), and had learned to regard himself as an obelisk 
 of virtue, and, in consequence, bore from Mr. Verney observa- 
 tions and suggestions which would not have been tolerated for 
 a moment from any other person. 
 
 Mrs. Verney was just now on a pinnacle of happiness. She 
 had a new specimen of human nature on which to make dis- 
 coveries, a new mind to develop, that of her nephew, — the 
 son of her husband's elder brother, — who had been left an 
 orphan at an early age, and having been sent to India, had 
 returned on account of his health. Report said that Mr. 
 Verney's career had not been very satisfactory ; but report 
 is proverbially ill-natured, and Mrs. Verney rejoiced in con- 
 tradicting it. A man holding a civil appointment in India 
 ought to be highly intelligent, therefore her nephew must be 
 remarkably clever ; and not only clever, but his mind would 
 certainly be well balanced, — strictly just. He would have en- 
 larged views of human nature generally. He might have a
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 59 
 
 taste for luxury and magnificence ; and as he had lived in the 
 constant sight of diamonds and rubies, gold tissue and embroi- 
 dered shawls, he could not be expected to tolerate the poverty 
 of our English style of dress and ornament ; but with this 
 fastidiousness, he would be extremely lavish and even princely 
 in his generosity. Mr. Vcrney might indeed be expected to 
 appear in the character of a munificent genius, scattering 
 blessings on all sides. Mrs. Verney had so often said all this 
 to herself, and so often repeated it to others before her nephew 
 arrived, that she did.at last actually believe it ; and if any one 
 had ventured to throw a doubt on her assertion, she would 
 have sighed over 'that painful tendency to censoriousness, 
 which must always endeavour to detract from excellence, how- 
 ever evident and acknowledged.' 
 
 But, notwithstanding all this romance, the drawing-room at 
 Stormont Park did not present any features of unusual interest 
 when, on the day fixed for the dinner-party, and precisely as 
 the hands of the French clock over the mantelpiece pointed to 
 half-past six, Dr. and Miss Kingsbury and Miss Medley were 
 announced. The room, not a very large one, and rather 
 crowded jvith tables and fancy chairs and tiny ottomans, was 
 nearly full. Colonel Verney was standing in the recess of the 
 window talking to Mr. Cameron ; and Mr. Baines and two or 
 three other gentlemen were congregated near, whilst the ladies 
 had collected in a circle round the fire, which was pronounced 
 scarcely needed, but very pleasant to look at. They had 
 scarcely advanced beyond this fact, because it was necessarily 
 stated upon every fresh arrival, and, indeed, was the only 
 remark which a nervous lady could venture to make upon 
 being brought suddenly into contact with the circle of wide- 
 spreading dresses which half-filled the room. When the 
 friends whom we are accustomed to see in dark, high, close- 
 fitting gowns, appear before us arrayed in silks made to stand 
 alone, and muslins of the colours of the rainbow, inflated to 
 the size of a balloon, to say nothing of ribbons, jewels, and 
 feathers — the transformation, however we may have been 
 prepared for it, must always have somewhat of a subduing 
 effect upon the spirits ; and the only person who in this in-
 
 60 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 stance appeared thoroughly at her ease was Mrs. Patty, who 
 had forgotten the time when she wore low dresses, and con- 
 sidered her Sunday gown all that was needed for any party. 
 
 ' So glad to see you, dear Mrs. Patty,' said Mrs. Verney, 
 as she held out both her hands. ' You know I consider it a 
 privilege to have you with us. So seldom as you leave your 
 home nest, and those absorbing duties! It is quite a privi- 
 lege ! — And Miss Medley, too. I could not have asked you 
 out, knowing your delicate fragile state, only I was sure you 
 would be interested. My dear Doctor, my nephew longs to 
 see you. He looks to your advice for the furtherance of his 
 benevolent schemes for India.' 
 
 ' He will consult some one who knows something about the 
 matter, if he takes my advice,' said the Doctor shortly. ' Is 
 your nephew here, Mrs. Verney ? ' and Dr. Kingsbury looked 
 round the room. 
 
 ' He will be here in a moment. He is so accustomed 
 to order everything his own way, that I think he scarcely 
 recognises the necessity of an observance of our English rules 
 of society.' 
 
 ' By which I suppose you mean that he is always late for 
 dinner,' said Dr. Kingsbury, laughing. ' Young men learn to 
 be that without going to India. — How do you do, my dear?' 
 — he turned away from Mrs. Verney and addressed Rosamond 
 Cameron, who was sitting, rather hidden by a screen, which the 
 Doctor in his haste to speak nearly upset. 
 
 Catharine Verney, who was opposite, showed her school- 
 girl ill-breeding by a laugh, but Rosamond caught the screen, 
 and then stood up and continued standing whilst Dr. Kings- 
 bury was speaking to her. It was very respectful, and 
 Rosamond looked so pretty and interesting with her hand 
 resting upon the mantelpiece and slightly leaning forward in 
 a deferential attitude, Dr. Kingsbury was quite attracted by 
 her. 
 
 'And your two brothers are with you, my dear, are they 
 not ? ' he asked. ' They are quite strangers in this part of the 
 world.' Dr. Kingsbury looked round the room, but his eye- 
 sight was bad, and he could not see them.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 61 
 
 ' Yes, both came the day before yesterday, and are to stay 
 with us some little time,' was the reply. ' Godfrey! Edmund!' 
 Rosamond's gentle voice could not be heard amidst the mur- 
 murs of the group of gentlemen, and it was only courtesy to 
 put aside her chair, and draw a little nearer so as to try and 
 attract the attention of her brothers. If they did not hear, 
 Mr. Baines did, and had the satisfaction of receiving — in 
 answer to his bow of recognition — one of Rosamond's very 
 sweetest smiles. But she had no thought to give to him, none 
 at all : she was such a very affectionate sister, and these two 
 brothers were such treasures ! 
 
 ' Godfrey, Dr. Kingsbury is asking for you.' Godfrey 
 came up directly. He was very gooddooking. He had his 
 father's cut features, and a good deal of his father's manner, 
 only without stiffness. How should a young man with such 
 prospects at the bar, such knowledge of the world (including 
 a bowing acquaintance with some of the leading men of the 
 day), who had a fund of law anecdotes at command, and 
 could argue upon remarkable cases with gentlemen, and talk 
 about music and the opera with ladies, be stiff? The only 
 difficulty with Godfrey Cameron was to prevent other persons 
 from being stiff and ill at ease with him. He really did not 
 intend to dazzle them with his brilliancy ; he always tried to 
 imagine that every one, like himself, knew everything, but it 
 was impossible to prevent the ignorance which was nearly 
 universal from appearing now and then in a way which was 
 awkward. He came up to Dr. Kingsbury instantly, with his 
 most beaming gracious manner. The Doctor was an old 
 friend, and Godfrey liked old friends, especially those who 
 lived in the country, and whom he could gratify without effort 
 by the exhibition of his talents. 
 
 ' I meant to have called upon you, sir, yesterday, but they 
 told me you were ill and rheumatic, and I was afraid of being 
 scolded by Mrs. Patty. But you are better, I hope, as I see 
 you here ? ' 
 
 ' I can't say much for being better,' replied the Doctor. 
 ' I believe I should have been wiser if I had stayed at home. 
 But Patty said I was to come, and I came.'
 
 62 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 'The influence of the ladies!' exclaimed Godfrey. 'It 
 is the same everywhere, sir. I was talking about it to Rigby 
 the other day — you know Rigby, of course, a quick-witted 
 fellow, just made Queen's Counsel, but superficial, — decidedly 
 superficial.' 
 
 ' They tell me that all classes are superficial now,' said the 
 Doctor. 
 
 ' Well, it is so. It is a painful fact, but there is no denying 
 it. To give you an instance — just one; I could give you 
 hundreds. A man brought his son to me the other day to 
 be examined. He wanted to have a notion of his general 
 abilities ; in fact, he desired me to see what he was fit for ; 
 and I tried the boy. I went through the elements of Euclid 
 and put him upon LyelPs geology ; then I tested him as to 
 the theories of ethnology and comparative philology ; and at 
 last, when I found he really knew nothing, I asked him a mere 
 simple geographical question — what was the distance from the 
 North Cape to Timbuctoo ? Would you believe it ? — he was 
 completely floored. Of course I gave in then, and advised 
 his father to send him to the colonies.' 
 
 ' I should be interested to know myself what the distance 
 is,' said the Doctor, with perfect simplicity. 
 
 ' Excuse me, my dear sir, you mistake. The answer was 
 the boy's business, not mine. Do you want a practical illus- 
 tration of the art of questioning ? Edmund '—he touched his 
 brother on the shoulder, and the young officer, a great contrast 
 to Godfrey, for he had a square figure, and a plain though 
 honest face, not yet shrouded in moustaches and whiskers, 
 turned round. 
 
 ' Tell us, will you, what was the plan of Wellington's de- 
 fences at Torres Vedras ? Now, sir, there is a question 
 which I put, but which my brother will be required to 
 answer; I leave him in your hands.' And Godfrey walked 
 off, just as the door opened and Mr. Verney entered the 
 room. 
 
 The defences of Torres Vedras were, happily for Edmund 
 Cameron, forgotten in the little stir which followed. Mr. 
 Verney was the hero of the party, all the more of a hero
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 because the dinner had been kept waiting till he appeared. 
 Yet he was not a hero in appearance : he was tall, thin, and 
 middle aged ; there was nothing in the least martial or strik- 
 ing in him, and his face was one about which it would have 
 been difficult to make a remark, except that it was not hand- 
 some, and that the eyes were grey. Rosamond glanced at 
 him, and then sat down and began talking to Elise Verney. 
 Edmund Cameron took advantage of the opportunity to 
 remove as far as possible from Dr. Kingsbury, fearing, no 
 doubt, lest Torres Vedras should again be brought upon 
 the tapis ; whilst the Doctor moved forward, as quickly as 
 his rheumatic infirmities would allow, and begged to shake 
 hands with the nephew of his old friend. 
 
 'A very intellectual face, you must allow,' whispered Mrs. 
 Verney to Miss Medley, who was seated beside her on the sofa. 
 ' Do you observe that peculiarly quiet movement of the limbs ? 
 The whole being is equally balanced, and there is such an air 
 of thought ; — you see it even in the complexion, in the absence 
 of colour, or any flush of excitement.' 
 
 ' Mr. Verney looks as if India had not quite agreed with him,' 
 said Miss Medley. ' I should like to have a little conversation 
 with him. Perhaps he may have known my nephew, and there 
 are many interesting facts connected with the hospital treat- 
 ment, which I should like to ask him about.' 
 
 ' He will be able to give you any information you may 
 require, I have no doubt,' replied Mrs. Verney. ' It is a mind 
 which gathers as it goes, and that insensibly ; but you would 
 like an introduction — ' 
 
 Dinner on the table ! Introductions and conversations were 
 cut short ; and following each other, according to some theory 
 of Mrs. Verney's, which no one but herself seemed to under- 
 stand, since all appeared bent upon doing exactly what they 
 ought not, the party moved into the dining-room. 
 
 Rosamond found herself seated with Dr, Kingsbury on one 
 side, and Mr. Baines on the other ; Mr. Verney was opposite. 
 It was a good position for studying a stranger, but she could 
 not make up her mind that there was anything worth study- 
 ing in Mr. Verney, except his quietness, and a slight air of
 
 , A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 melancholy, which possibly might have something to do with his 
 bilious complexion. She tried in the intervals of the parochial 
 talk with Mr. Baines, which was the style she always adopted 
 with him when wishing to attend to something else, to hear 
 what Mr. Verney was saying • but he had such a low voice, it 
 was impossible to catch more than a few words, and his manner 
 gave the impression of his being weary. It was very vexatious 
 to Rosamond, for it made the dinner dull. If she had been 
 left to amuse herself with Mr. Baines, it might have been all 
 very well ; but to be distracted with watching Mr. Verney was 
 too tiresome. Suddenly, however, — the consciousness came 
 upon her, just as she had roused herself to a little exciting 
 banter with the young curate, — Mr. Verney's voice was heard 
 more distinctly ; he was addressing Dr. Kingsbury, and the 
 Doctor was leaning forward with an air of attention ; Mr. 
 Cameron also was listening. Mr. Verney, singularly enough, 
 had gained the attention of the table, though Godfrey Cameron 
 was attempting a diversion at the other end by a loud argument 
 with Elise Verney upon the comparative merits of Italian 
 bravuras and English ballads 
 
 ' You say, sir, that the future of India depends upon its 
 colonisation more than its Christianity, if I understand you 
 rightly ? ' said Dr. Kingsbury. The words were accompanied 
 by a little impatience of manner, which might have been 
 caused by his deafness, or his disagreement from the principle 
 enunciated. 
 
 Air. Verney repeated his statement with a kind of indolent 
 gentleness of tone, but his glance went rapidly round the table. 
 
 ' Charles had a quarrel with the missionaries,' said Colonel 
 Verney. 'Indeed, I never heard that at anytime there was 
 much love lost between them and the Civil Service.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron remarked sententiously that the government 
 of India had done wisely in allowing the missionary work to 
 develop its own features. The duty of government was, in all 
 cases, to guide rather than to create. 
 
 Mr. Verney seemed to weigh the observation, and then he 
 spoke, rather slowly at first, but becoming rapid as he grew 
 interested.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 65 
 
 ' He quite agreed with Mr. Cameron ; it was the principle 
 which, if he might be allowed to speak of himself, he had 
 always advocated, and upon which he had always acted.' 
 And then he went on to give illustrations of its practical work- 
 ing. He told of what he had himself seen, of the intercourse 
 which he had held with the natives ; and in answer to a question 
 of Dr. Kingsbury's, he became more distinct in his description 
 of the various races ; tracing their numerous divisions, their 
 religious and geographical distinctions, giving a great deal of 
 new and important information upon points on which almost 
 all present were ignorant. The original question was quite lost 
 in the variety of topics introduced, and not one of which was 
 left by Mr. Verney, without some notice worthy of being 
 treasured in the memory. And this without the least effort, or 
 endeavour to engage or retain attention, but rather like a man 
 who has to rouse himself from some physical disinclination to 
 conversation ; but who speaks because he feels that he is called 
 upon to please others. Dr. Kingsbury was no longer impatient, 
 and not at all inclined to be argumentative. Mr. Cameron, 
 in a very well-set sentence, expressed his satisfaction. Mrs. 
 Verney again repeated to Miss Medley — ' Such a mind and 
 such thought ! ' Miss Medley murmured to Mrs. Patty, ' If 
 men could but act as they talk, my dear Mrs. Patty ; but alas ! ' 
 whilst Mrs. Patty in reply observed, ' It seems to me, my dear 
 Miss Medley, that we might all gain a good deal from what we 
 hear if we could only understand it ; and I dare say the young 
 folks do ; but you know I am a little deaf, which must be my 
 excuse for not taking it in properly.' 
 
 And all this time Mr. Verney's dinner was apparently such a 
 secondary consideration, that it was nearly forgotten. Happily 
 the Indian conversation had begun rather late, so that it was 
 carried on with the greatest energy at dessert. But first, second, 
 and third courses, wine or dessert, seemed equally indifferent 
 to Mr. Verney, who took or refused what came before him with 
 an absent air, which was very imposing, and slightly rebuking 
 to persons who, like Mr. Cameron and Colonel Verney, were 
 conscious that, to them, dinner was a very important affair. 
 
 ' India has spoilt your appetite, Charles,' said the latter, 
 
 E
 
 66 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 after listening to a succession of noes, quite dispiriting to a 
 host on hospitable thoughts intent. ' We would have ordered 
 curry and mulligatawny, only you Indians are so particular, 
 you never will touch them unless they are cooked in your own 
 particular fashion.' 
 
 ' Thank you, but I have rather given up eating lately,' was 
 Mr. Verney's answer ; and as though annoyed at having 
 attracted observation, he addressed a paradoxical remark to 
 Dr. Kingsbury, which brought a decidedly argumentative reply, 
 and the conversation was carried on as brilliantly as eve:'. The 
 good Doctor grew highly excited. He was hearing principles 
 laid down incidentally, to which he could by no means yield 
 consent ; but when, according to his wont, he attempted to 
 stop the fluent speaker with ' Stay ; let me understand ; you 
 think so and so,' he found himself blown off, as it were, by a 
 puff of repeated assertion, ending with, ' My dear sir, excuse 
 me, but first principles must be assumed ; if you had been in 
 India, you would know that I am correct ; ' and away went 
 Mr. Verney again ; the Doctor, eager to follow him, lest he 
 should lose something important, yet longing to stop and trea- 
 sure up in his memory the points open to dispute, that he might 
 have them all out, as he would have expressed it, on another 
 occasion. It was an amusing scene at last, for the conversa- 
 tion was left in the hands of the two who were all but com- 
 batants. Rosamond's attention was fully gained ; she turned 
 from one to the other, and every now and then laughed gaily 
 with that sweet, soft, yet clear laugh, which is heard so rarely, 
 but which, when it is heard, rings on the car like musk. Mr. 
 Verney answered the laugh by addressing her, so as to bring 
 her into the conversation ; and Dr. Kingsbury, who always 
 accepted even a child as a fit subject for explanation and argu- 
 ment, seized upon her in order to state his views to a person 
 who, at least, would listen to them. Rosamond was most de- 
 ferential, quiet, and interested then ; she looked prepared to 
 discourse upon Indian politics with the Governor-General, but — 
 a most untimely interruption — Mrs. Verney from the top of the 
 table bowed to Mrs. Cameron at the bottom, and all opportunity 
 for Rosamond to shine forth in her new character was lost.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF TUB WORLD. 67 
 
 Yet the effects of that momentary display of interest were 
 not quite lost. About three-quarters of an hour afterwards the 
 gentlemen appeared in the drawing-room, Mr. Verney being 
 one of the first. The array of ladies had in the meantime been 
 increased by the addition of the three young daughters of Mr. 
 Harrison, the surgeon, who were chaperoned by their gover- 
 ness. Catharine Verney also, who had retired before dinner, 
 not being considered old enough to dine at table, was again 
 stationed at the comfortable sofa-corner, and the boys, who 
 in like manner had been exiled to the schoolroom, had re- 
 appeared. The party was just such as would be likely to enjoy 
 an impromptu quadrille, and Mrs. Verney proposed it. Mr. 
 Verney escaped from his aunt just as she was about to intro- 
 duce him to Miss Medley, and walked across the room to 
 Rosamond with a languid step and the air of a martyr. 
 
 1 Miss Cameron, may I have the gratification of hearing 
 your opinion upon India in the interstices of a quadrille ? I 
 am not likely to have the opportunity in any other way.' 
 
 Rosamond was properly humble, and yet dignified. ' She 
 knew nothing about India, but she would be happy to dance a 
 quadrille, if they were really going to dance.' 
 
 A glance showed her that Mr. Baines was standing near, and 
 she immediately addressed him : ' Mr. Baines, I am always so 
 sorry for you when dancing begins ; I know you don't think it 
 clerical.' 
 
 ' Not quite, Miss Cameron j but I am very happy, I assure 
 you. It is too good of you to waste your pity upon me.' 
 
 Rosamond smiled still more kindly, and Mr. Verney, as he 
 led her to the top of the quadrille, said carelessly, ' Too good 
 indeed ; you don't know the value of your pity, Miss 
 Cameron.' 
 
 The tone was doubtful. It might have been that Mr. Verney 
 intended to be sarcastic ; but, if he did, he had no opportunity 
 given him, for he was instantly taxed with a question about 
 India, which compelled him to leave the region of personalities 
 for that of politics. He made several efforts to escape, for his 
 former zest on the subject was evidently gone, but Rosamond 
 mercilessly drew him back to it ; till at last, as he led her to a
 
 68 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 seat, after the quadrille was ended, he said, ' I shall think you 
 are preparing for the office of Governor-General, if you persist 
 in this thirst for information. Do you really never talk about 
 anything but politics and government ? ' 
 
 ' Sometimes ; when I am quite sure of the sympathy of the 
 person with whom I am conversing,' was the reply ; and before 
 Mr. Verney could seize upon the opening thus given him, Rosa- 
 mond had turned away from him, and was insisting upon having 
 a galop with young Harry Verney. Mr. Verney retired to an 
 arm-chair in the corner, and watched the scene with the quietly 
 amused, but slightly melancholy air of a man of forty, whilst 
 two or three of the young girls, delighting in the absence of 
 formality, danced together merrily. 
 
 ' Now, that is what I call pretty,' said Miss Medley, who, 
 having failed in her purpose of being introduced to Mr. Verney, 
 and discussing homoeopathy with him, had thrust herself for- 
 ward so as to intercept Mrs. Patty's view of the dancers ; her 
 peach-coloured ribbons waving, as she nodded her head to keep 
 time to the music. ' It is just what it diould be, — dancing for 
 dancing's sake. What do you say, Doctor? ' 
 
 The Doctor's attention was absolutely engrossed. He had 
 almost a childish pleasure in graceful and rhythmical move- 
 ment. 
 
 ' You will do best not to interrupt him,' said Mrs. Patty , 
 'he says that looking at dancing is to him like reading his old 
 Greek poetry books.' 
 
 ' And Mrs. Cameron is so good-natured in playing, and 
 keeps such excellent time/ said Miss Medley. 'It is a pity, 
 though, that she can't see her own eldest girl.' 
 
 ' Not hers,' replied Mrs. Patty ; ' Myra is her eldest.' 
 
 ' Oh yes ! Myra — I forgot ; but I always put her aside, she 
 is so unlike the rest ; much more of her father in her ; now, 
 don't you think so, Mrs. Patty? Just that kind of odd, shut-up 
 way about her — the man's way, in fact ; nothing open-hearted 
 and woman-like, and get-on-able with.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty was a little quick in her reply : 'I don't think 
 that we know what any young girl, or young boy either is, or 
 is likely to be, till time proves it, Miss Medley ; and so I
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 69 
 
 would rather say nothing, except that poor little Myra has a 
 vast deal of good about her.' 
 
 ' Oh ! no doubt ; and it is not like a boy, with whom there 
 are ten chances to one against his turning out good for any- 
 thing; with a girl, as you say, there is hope always. But you 
 must own, Mrs. Patty, that Rosamond Cameron shirts her 
 sisters out like sunlight.' 
 
 'She is a good deal older,' said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' Oh ! but she was always the same from a baby ; she never 
 was like others. Such clean frocks as she always had ! And 
 now, just look, isn't she swest ? ' 
 
 Rosamond was standing with her arms round Catharine 
 Verney's waist, upon the point apparently of setting off on a 
 polka, as soon as the set of whirling couples should give them 
 a good opportunity of joining them. Mr. Verney was on a 
 sofa near, and whilst they were waiting, she was talking to 
 him. He was remonstrating against ladies dancing together, 
 and Rosamond was insisting that it was quite allowable and 
 very pleasant. There was a pretty, patronising, protecting air 
 about her, as she called upon Catharine to support her, and 
 strenuously refused Mr. Verney's proposal to be her partner, 
 saying that she was already engaged. 
 
 ' She is so simple and good-natured,' said Miss Medley ; 
 ' that is what I admire in her.' 
 
 ' But I should like to know what she is at now,' was Mrs. 
 Patty's reply, spoken in a very absent tone. She waited for 
 a few moments more, and then went up to her brother ; 
 ' Doctor, dear,' — the Doctor started — ' we ordered the fly at 
 half-past ten, and Miss Medley won't like to be late.' 
 
 ' Oh ! not for me ; don't think about me, pray. I am fore- 
 armed — protected ; I wish you were the same. A little camo- 
 milla does such wonders in quieting the system.' 
 
 ' Those little girls won't have had enough of it till midnight ' 
 said the Doctor, not moving his eyes from the dancers. ' But, 
 Patty, I think I am tired.' 
 
 'To be sure you are, Doctor, dear; you ought to be in bed.' 
 
 ' I should like to see Rosamond Cameron go round once 
 more, though,' he continued.
 
 70 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD, 
 
 1 He is bewitched with her, like all the rest,' muttered Mrs. 
 Patty to herself; and then she said aloud, 'Why, if you wait 
 for that, Doctor, you may wait another hour. Don't you see 
 she is talking to Mr. Verney ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, certainly, but they are going off again. Only 
 
 Miss Medley, I beg your pardon,' and the Doctor seemed to 
 wake up from a dream, and put up his hand and twisted his 
 wig; ' It is a very strange thing — a very singular thing, that 
 sense of rhythm. I should like to know Mr. Verney's opinion 
 as to how far it is inherent in the Indian races ; whether any 
 similarity exists between them and the Greeks in this respect. 
 Indo-European — there ought to be.' 
 
 ' Doctor, dear, shall we ask for the carriage ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, Patty ; I beg Miss Medley's pardon. No doubt 
 Mr. Verney will give me the opportunity of discussing upon 
 this topic. Do you think, Patty, they will ever stop?' 
 
 ' You can make your way by the fire-place, Doctor; let me 
 go before you.' Miss Medley placed herself as a guard be- 
 tween the dancers and the infirm Doctor, who. accompanied 
 by Mrs. Patty, went round to every one, and wished a kindly 
 and individual ' Good night.' 
 
 His move was the signal for a general dispersion. Mr. 
 Cameron and Colonel Verney, who had been deep in contro- 
 versv of some kind, were roused to the knowledge that it was 
 growing late, and Mr. Baines had long before torn himself 
 away. 
 
 ' You will allow me, sir, to see you to your carriage, before 
 I inquire for my own,' said Mr. Cameron, as Dr. Kingsbury 
 came up to him. 
 
 ' By no means, sir, would I give you that trouble, but I 
 thank you heartily. Patty, where did I leave my stick ? ' 
 
 ' In the hall, Doctor; we shall find it when we go down- 
 stairs. Good night, Mr. Cameron. I hope you and the 
 Colonel have been having a pleasant friendly talk ; you have 
 been long at it.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron shrunk into himself and bowed ; whilst the 
 Colonel exclaimed — ' Not one whit friendly, I am afraid, Mrs. 
 Patty ; Mr. Cameron is on the opposition bench, and likely to
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 71 
 
 remain there, unless your influence can bring him round. We 
 were discussing the Idiot Asylum, and the new regulations.' 
 
 'Oh! the Idiot Asylum. Dear me, I quite forgot! Mr. 
 Cameron, I must, please, have your votes ; you will promise 
 me ? ' 
 
 'Pardon me, I never promise without investigation; but 
 Miss Kingsbury's protege's will always have a claim to con- 
 sideration. Good night ! ' and there was another polite bow, 
 and Mrs. Patty and the Doctor moved on and at length 
 escaped, not only from Mr. Cameron, but Mr. Verney, who 
 was apparently too weary to do more than smile at the pro- 
 posal made by the old man to discuss the characteristics of 
 the Indian and Greek races on the earliest occasion. 
 
 Mr. Verney was not, however, too weary to offer his arm to 
 Rosamond when she went downstairs ; and not too absent to 
 remind her of the topics which she had said she was always 
 willing to discuss with persons who sympathised with her, and 
 about which he begged for some information. Rosamond's 
 reply was an appeal to Mrs. Cameron, who was close by hef 
 side. 
 
 ' Mamma, what should you say was my favourite pursuit — 
 the thing which most interested me ? Is it drawing or music ? ' 
 
 ' You have a taste for both, my dear; but what a strange 
 question just now ! ' 
 
 ' Only Mr. Verney wished to know what were the things I 
 most cared for, and I felt doubtful how to reply ; and one 
 does not wish to be conceited,' she added, with child-like 
 frankness. 
 
 ' That was not an answer to my question,' said Mr. Verney, 
 in a low voice, as he handed her into the carriage. 
 
 And Rosamond laughed lightly, and answered, ' I think the 
 history of India is more in your way.'
 
 72 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DR. KINGSBURY was busy in his study, in the morning of the 
 next day, looking over some school accounts, when Mrs. Patty 
 appeared, dragging rather than ushering in Myra, who looked 
 pale, weary, and uncommonly shy. 
 
 ' I have brought a young visitor to see you, Doctor ; one 
 you will be very glad to say "How d'ye do" to. Sit down, dear 
 child, and Faith shall bring you a glass of wine and a bit of 
 cake — nice plain seedcake.' 
 
 ' Oh no, thank you ! ' exclaimed Myra ; l I could not eat 
 anything ; but it is so hot, and I am afraid — Mrs. Patty said 
 she was sure I might come, sir ; but I knew I should disturb 
 you.' 
 
 The Doctor had been slowly preparing for the meeting, 
 putting aside his pen and paper, and rising with some difficulty 
 from his chair. As Myra came close to him he put his hand 
 upon her head and said, ' God bless you, child ! Patty tells 
 me you have been very ill.' And then he bent down and kissed 
 her forehead, and looking intently into her face, added kindly, 
 ' Patty must look after you, and not let you be tired.' 
 
 ' It was her own will to come,' said Mrs. Patty. ' I thought 
 it might be almost too long a walk ; but she did so want to 
 
 see you.' 
 
 ' An old man's study can have nothing very attractive to a 
 young thing like you,' said the Doctor, reseating himself, and 
 turning his chair so as to give Myra his full attention. 
 
 ' I like it,' said Myra ; ' and it seemed so long since I was 
 here.' 
 
 ' And you have been ill,' observed the Doctor; ' illness makes 
 time seem long to us.' 
 
 ' You see, Myra, that the notes t« St. Augustine are going on 
 still,' said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' And are not much nearer the end, I am afraid,' observed 
 the Doctor.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 73 
 
 1 1 should like to understand it,' said Myra ; ' if it was in 
 English, might I read it?' 
 
 ' Surely, my child ; that is, some portions. Rut you would 
 do better to read it in Latin — and you understand Latin ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no ! ' exclaimed Myra ; ' I learnt the declensions, and 
 I read the second chapter of St. Matthew in a Latin Bible 
 once, but' — and she blushed — 'I think I cried when Mr. 
 Cole, the schoolmaster, began giving me lessons, and so I 
 was allowed to leave off. But I would learn now, if I might, 
 if any one would teach me.' 
 
 ' You may have other — better things to do now,' observed 
 the Doctor, and he adjusted his spectacles, and moved so as 
 to face the folio volume on his desk. ' St. Augustine is a most 
 valuable writer, and the notes, I hope, may be useful ; but they 
 take time, and writing is a labour.' 
 
 ' If I knew Latin, perhaps I might be able to help you in 
 that,' said Myra, in a disappointed, almost fretful, tone. 
 
 ' The notes are English, my dear, for the most part ; but 
 you would find it troublesome work to make out my crabbed 
 writing ; and my hand has grown very shaky lately — rheu- 
 matic gout, I am afraid.' 
 
 'Might I try?' said Myra; 'I like making out strange 
 writing.' 
 
 Dr. Kingsbury laid two or three bits of paper before her, 
 scrawled over with what might as well have been Egyptian 
 hieroglyphics, so far as regarded legibility. 
 
 ' If I might take them home,' said Myra, ' I could make them 
 out in time.' 
 
 The Doctor caught up the papers in terror. ' Patty, 
 where is my note-case ? ' He thrust the papers into it, 
 and tried to turn the conversation ; but Myra was not to be 
 daunted. 
 
 ' I should like to copy something for you, if I might ; would 
 you only just let me try ? Mrs. Patty, couldn't I do something ? 
 You know I have nothing in the world to do that is useful to 
 any one.' 
 
 ' Except to gei well, my little woman,' said the Doctor. 
 
 Myra looked distressed; but it was more from physical
 
 74 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 weakness than anything else. She was just in that state when 
 the least contradiction seems unkindness. 
 
 ' Doctor, dear, if you have a bit of writing that you don't 
 care about, you might just let her try,' said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 Myra was proud and perverse then, and observed, 'that she 
 did not want to try for amusement ; she wished to be of use.' 
 
 The Doctor had been looking at his school accounts, as 
 though he would fain return to them ; but now he glanced at 
 Myra with a look very unlike that absent, wandering inspec- 
 tion which was usual with him, and said, shortly, ' Patty, if 
 the little girl likes to copy a letter for me, I should be glad for 
 her to do it ; and you can leave her here, and come for her 
 presently. 
 
 Myra could have found it in her heart to refuse, but she 
 had no option. Mrs. Patty made her take off her bonnet, 
 and cleared a space for her at the writing-table ; and in a few 
 seconds, Myra, whose request had been little more than the 
 impulse of wayward weariness, found herself with a sheet of 
 paper before her, engaged in deciphering an interlined letter 
 to an inspector of schools, and afraid to ask for explanations 
 of the Doctor, who was apparently unconscious of her presence. 
 
 Mrs. Patty left them to themselves, promising to return 
 again in a quarter of an hour, but Myra had only succeeded 
 in getting through the first sentence of the letter when she 
 appeared in the door-way again, ' Doctor, it really is too bad ; 
 here is Mr. Verney j he ought to have known better. Shall I 
 tell him you can't see him before luncheon ? Shall I ask him 
 to luncheon ? ' 
 
 The Doctor finished a calculation before he spoke, and the 
 delay was unfortunate. The dull servant girl, who had been 
 sent from the kitchen dinner-table to answer the bell, had 
 admitted Mr. Verney, and answered him that the Doctor was 
 at home, and would be very glad to see him. Nothing was 
 to be done but to admit him. The Doctor's wig was pushed 
 and pulled in various ways, and some quick little coughs, 
 approaching to grunts, escaped him. Myra thought she 
 must go, but he put his hand upon her, and said, ' Won't 
 you finish what you are doing, my child ? ' and then nodding
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 75 
 
 his head to Mrs. Patty, he added, 'Very good, Patty, I will 
 see Mr. Verney,' and almost at the same moment Mr. Verney 
 came in. 
 
 He was a better-looking man by the morning light; or rather, 
 perhaps he was feeling better, and so there was more anima- 
 tion in his face. But he was tall and stiff; and Myra, who, on 
 being introduced, glanced at him for a moment, very earnestly 
 wished herself with Mrs. Patty. 
 
 A few mutual inquiries about health began the conversation. 
 Mr. Verney spoke of his own ailments with the nonchalant 
 air of one who submits to an evil which he is too indolent to 
 attempt to remedy. Dr. Kingsbury talked of his as though he 
 had faced them and meant to do battle with them ; all the while 
 feeling that they were only the necessary attendants of his age. 
 
 ' One learns to be ill in India as one learns to eat curry,' 
 said Mr. Verney. ' It is all habit ; I shouldn't know myself 
 if I were to feel well again.' 
 
 ' Good health is a great treasure, sir, not to be lightly thrown 
 away ; we are responsible for our health, as we are for all other 
 blessings.' 
 
 'The responsibility is too heavy for me,' was the reply ; ' I 
 leave it all to my doctors ; one being as good as another. 1 
 have no faith in any of them.' 
 
 Dr. Kingsbury was antagonistic to indifferentism in any 
 form, and the gauntlet being thrown down he took it up. The 
 medical science, indeed, had not perhaps advanced as rapidly 
 as other sciences, yet it had made great progress of late years. 
 He thought want of faith in medicine might be considered want 
 of faith in the Providence which directed its use. Mr. Verney 
 persisted in his incredulity, and the Doctor reiterated his asser- 
 tion ; and then came instances of ignorance of the treatment of 
 maladies common in India • and in a few minutes Mr. Verney 
 was in the full flow of eager conversation and anecdote, often 
 paradoxical, always amusing, and from time to time bringing 
 out some dry remark, which showed deep thought as well as 
 quick observation, and which led the Doctor, even whilst he 
 opposed him, to say, ' That is true, sir • I wish not to over- 
 look the force of that observation ; but on the other hand, 1
 
 7 6 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 maintain, as I before said,' &c. ; and so they went on, neither 
 of them apparently thinking of Myra, except that Mr. Verney's 
 eyes travelled round the room whenever he was not speaking, 
 and seemed always to be employed in some office quite dis- 
 tinct from his ears. 
 
 The conversation would have given a remarkably different 
 impression of the two men ; Mr. Verney apparently not 
 putting his heart into anything he said, yet with a tone of 
 melancholy about him, even when he was most absurd in 
 his perception of the ludicrous ; and Dr. Kingsbury, wonder- 
 fully earnest even upon the lightest matter — but from the 
 conviction of reason rather than the impulse of feeling — and 
 never sad though always grave. Myra at last laid down her 
 pen and listened ; she could not help it. Mr. Verney noticed 
 it, and remarked, with a laugh, ' We must be careful what we 
 say, sir ; we have an auditor. What is Miss Myra Cameron's 
 opinion upon the vexed subject we have been discussing?' he 
 added, turning to her with a satirical smile. 
 
 Myra blushed a colour deeper than crimson, and without 
 answering went on writing. 
 
 < Is the letter finished, my little girl ?' said the Doctor; • I 
 did not think it was such a long one.' 
 
 He meant the question kindly ; but Myra thought it was a 
 reproof. The blush became almost tears ; but she struggled 
 hard against such folly. ' It will be finished soon, sir ; but 
 there are three words I can't make out.' 
 
 The Doctor took the paper from her, and was going to put 
 on his spectacles, but they were not to be found j he hunted 
 for them in vain. 
 
 Myra would hare knelt to search under the table, but Mr. 
 Verney's gentlemanly feeling interposed ; he begged her not 
 to trouble herself, he would look for them ; but Myra was 
 only too glad to be under the table — anywhere — so that she 
 might be hidden ; and she disappeared so quickly that both 
 Dr. Kingsbury and Mr. Verney began to laugh. Myra re- 
 covered herself then, and bringing up the spectacles in triumph 
 from the floor, stood by the Doctor's chair and pointed out the 
 illegible words.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 77 
 
 'You are fortunate in having such an amanuensis, sir,' 
 observed Mr. Verney. ' May I ask if the young lady's services 
 are engaged for long ? I should like to enter into a negotia- 
 tion on my own account.' 
 
 Myra looked him full in the face. ' I wrote this to help 
 Dr. Kingsbury,' she said ; ' I have no time to write anything 
 else. If you please, sir,' and she addressed the Doctor, ' may 
 I go to Mrs. Patty now ? ' 
 
 1 Surely, my dear, if you like it ; and thank you very much. 
 It seems all correct; and perhaps some day you will try 
 another letter ; I should be glad if you would.' 
 
 Myra could not bring herself to express any satisfaction, and 
 walked out of the room with a painfully self-conscious air. As 
 she closed the door, she heard Mr. Verney say: 'What a 
 strancre little beinsr ; and what a contradiction between manner 
 and words ! ' She could almost have stamped, she was so 
 provoked with herself. 
 
 They met again at luncheon. Myra ensconced herself in 
 silence, except when she said a few words in answer t® Mrs. 
 Patty's simple questions. Mr. Verney tried to draw her out, 
 but it was evident that he only did it for his own amusement ; 
 and when he found himself unsuccessful, he was too indolent 
 to continue the attempt. And Myra tried to think she dis- 
 liked him; but she could not help listening to him, neither 
 could she avoid showing that she was interested. Her coun- 
 tenance always expressed what was passing in her mind, in a 
 way which she was not in the least aware of herself. 
 
 Even Mrs. Patty saw it ; and when they rose from tabic, 
 said, laughingly : ' Now, Myra, if you can bear to leave this 
 pleasant talk, I think I ought to be taking you home.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, directly ! I am quite ready, Mrs. Patty — quite,' 
 repeated Myra. ' I shall like to go home ; I think I am a 
 little tired.' 
 
 ' Only think,' said Mr. Verney ; ' that must be but a very 
 small amount of fatigue ; but you don't look strong. Perhaps 
 you will let me drive you home in my uncle's phaeton, which 
 will be here presently ? ' 
 
 Myra looked absolutely frightened at the suggestion, and
 
 78 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Mrs. Patty negatived it instantly : ' A little walking/ she said, 
 ' was good for Myra j and she had a message to send by her 
 to Mrs. Cameron.' 
 
 The two assertions had no very obvious connection, but 
 Myra seemed to understand and connect them in her own 
 mind ; and Dr. Kingsbury having invited Mr. Verney to return 
 with him to his study to look at some choice books, Myra and 
 Mrs. Patty were left together. 
 
 Then Myra burst forth, seizing her friend's hand. ' O Mrs. 
 Patty ! I am so glad j I like it so much better when we are 
 alone. Will he be here often ? ' 
 
 ' Who ? Mr. Verney ? I don't know, my dear. Why should 
 you dislike him ? And you seemed to listen.' 
 
 ' Oh yes ! listen ; I like to listen. But, Mrs. Patty, do you 
 always remember yourself when people are near you ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Patty looked amazed. ' Remember myself, my dear ? 
 Remember others, I suppose you mean. How can one re- 
 member oneself? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! you don't understand. I never met with any one yet 
 who could help me. Mrs. Patty, will you make me as good 
 as you are ? ' 
 
 Another look of surprise mingled with as much disapproba- 
 tion as Mrs. Patty's kindly nature admitted of. ' Dear little 
 Myra ! I make you good ! What are you thinking of ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing.' said Myra, abruptly, and she hurried upstairs 
 before Mrs. Patty ; but when they reached the landing-place 
 she stopped, and said, ' I was rude ; you will forgive me, won't 
 you ? ' 
 
 It was impossible to resist that apology. Mrs. Patty, who 
 had been just a little ruffled by Myra's awkwardness, forgave 
 in a moment, and they went out together, happy and at ease ; 
 not the less so because Myra's thoughts had been diverted 
 from Mr. Verney.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. yq 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Mrs. Patty led the way through the Rectory garden, and by 
 the pond, to the lane leading to the village. Then she and 
 Myra crossed a few fields, and at length reached a little cottage 
 standing alone on a rising ground. They had said but little 
 during their walk j Myra was at times very silent, and Mrs. 
 "patty was thinking over the arguments by which she might 
 persuade the mother of the idiot boy to consent that her son 
 should go to the Asylum. 'It I could only make her see 
 things sensibly ! ' she exclaimed, at length, speaking her own 
 thoughts rather than addressing Myra; 'but she never will 
 believe that he will be taken care of.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Ford, do you mean ? ' asked Myra. ' But she must 
 be very glad to get rid of him.' 
 
 ' Not at all, my dear. He is her child.' 
 
 ' I daresay it is very hard-hearted,' continued Myra, ' but I 
 should think it very dreadful to have him always about me. 
 He can't speak plainly.' 
 
 'No; nor even feed himself, and he is eleven years old.' 
 
 'And they will teach him all kind of things at the Asylum, 
 won't they?' inquired Myra. ' Papa said the other day, that 
 it was quite wonderful how they brought the poor children 
 forward.' 
 
 ' Very true, my dear • but Mrs. Ford will be terribly pu f 
 out with me for suggesting his going.' 
 
 ' Then Mrs. Ford is an idiot herself,' said Myra bluntly. 
 
 ' Hush ! my dear, hush ! Here she comes, and Johnny 
 with her.' 
 
 The mother and the boy came down the centre walk in the 
 little cottage garden together ; Johnny dragging himself along 
 with an uncertain step, and stopping every instant, against his 
 mother's wish, to gather a leaf from a gooseberry-bush, or a 
 cabbage. Even before his features could be distinguished^ 
 his gait showed his infirmity.
 
 8o A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Mrs. Ford vainly tried to hasten ; it was clear she could 
 not trust him out of her sight for an instant. 
 
 ' He has one of his troublesome fits on him to-day, ma'am, 
 was her greeting, as she allowed Mrs. Patty to approach with- 
 out advancing herself to meet her. ' I shouldn't have a leaf 
 left on the bushes, if I wasn't after him.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty seized the opening afforded by the observation, 
 and went straight to the point. ' If Johnny was so trouble- 
 some, and took up so much of Mrs. Ford's time, the natural 
 deduction was that it would be a great comfort to have him 
 placed elsewhere. And she was come to talk the matter over.' 
 
 Myra looked eagerly at the woman's face. It had not quite 
 the expression which Mrs. Patty had prognosticated. Mrs. 
 Ford was at that moment suffering too much from Johnny's 
 misdeeds, not to be alive to the advantage to be derived from 
 having him taken care of elsewhere. But she had a good 
 deal of the Anglo-Saxon independence of character, and was 
 not at all satisfied that it was well for any one else to complain 
 of her boy as a burden, however she might do so herself. ' To 
 be sure,' she said, ' Johnny was a trouble ; she hadn't a 
 moment's rest with him. Even at night he was often up and 
 about, when he ought to be fast asleep ; but it was only for a 
 time ; he was a good lad within whiles, and very fond of her ; 
 and he would play with the kitten for hours. He was always 
 good when he had the kitten ; just now the kitten had gone 
 off; they did not know where to find it, and she and Johnny 
 were going out to look for it. As to the asylum, she had 
 never heard about it ; she didn't know. Would not Mrs. 
 Patty come in and sit down ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Patty was relieved. She had expected a storm of 
 abuse, for Mrs. Ford's reputation for good temper was not of 
 the highest. In her benevolence she made an effort to con- 
 ciliate the boy also, but Johnny's fits were far from amiable ; 
 and when Mrs. Ford interfered, hoping to draw him into the 
 house by entreaties and force mingled, a decided struggle 
 ensued between the mother and the child. 
 
 Myra stood by, watching all that went on ; not caring, as 
 it would seem, for the result, but observing and thinking.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. Sr 
 
 Her thoughts could not have been pleasant, for her brow grew 
 more and more contracted ; and at length she turned suddenly 
 and walked away by herself. 
 
 In the field adjoining the cottage lay the branch of a fallen 
 tree, and she sat down, leaning her head upon her hands, 
 trying, it might have appeared, to shade herself from the low- 
 glancing rays of the afternoon sun ; or perhaps wishing to 
 shut out the sounds of altercation which were still to be heard 
 in the cottage garden. She was so motionless that she might 
 have been thought to be asleep, and probably the idea did 
 suggest itself to Mrs. Patty, when, the interview with Mrs. 
 Ford being over, she drew near the spot, and stood by Myra 
 for a few seconds without speaking. 
 
 Myra looked up then. She was no longer perplexed and 
 irritated. The tone of her voice was only sorrowful, as she 
 asked, ' May we go now ? ' 
 
 ' To be sure, my dear ; I would not have kept you if I could 
 have helped it ; but I hope the little rest may have done you 
 good. And Mrs. Ford was much better behaved than I ex- 
 pected. She is to bring Johnny to the Rectory to-morrow, that 
 the Doctor may see him.' 
 
 ' Where is the good ? ' exclaimed Myra ; whilst again the 
 look of perplexed irritability crossed her face. 
 
 ' The good, my dear ? Why, the Doctor will talk her over, 
 and settle the whole matter, and have the card printed, and 
 then we shall begin collecting votes j and that is what you 
 are to tell your mamma.' 
 
 ' But the good ? ' persisted Myra. ' There is no good in 
 it ; Johnny Ford is an idiot ; he never will be anything else — 
 never.' 
 
 < He may be a good deal better than he is now,' said Mrs. 
 Patty. 
 
 ' But that will be nothing ; there is no place for him any- 
 where.' 
 
 'A place! Service, do you mean, my dear? Certainly, I 
 don't think Johnny Ford would ever be able to go to service.' 
 
 1 Oh no, not that ; but a place — a use. What was he 
 made for? Mrs. Patty, what are we, any of us, made for?' 
 
 F
 
 82 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Mrs. Patty paused ; then she said, ' May be, my dear, we 
 can't know till we get to Heaven.' 
 
 ' But I must know ! ' exclaimed Myra. ' Mrs. Patty, I can't 
 live without knowing. Johnny Ford is like mc — he has no 
 place ; but I am not an idiot. There ought to be a place 
 for me. Why is there not ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Patty slackened her steps, and there was some per- 
 turbation in her countenance, but she was not wholly unused 
 to Myra's singularities, and she answered quietly, ' My dear, 
 you are so young now, you will find your place as you grow 
 older.' 
 
 ' No,' persisted Myra, ' I shall not. There are some people 
 born to have no place. No one wants them, or makes use of 
 them, or leans upon them ; and they can do nothing. They 
 are not pleasant, or clever ; they are not like Mr. Verney. 
 Mrs. Patty, how will Mr. Verney and Johnny Ford live in 
 Heaven, if they are there together ? ' 
 
 ' Pretty much as they do on earth, I should think, my dear,' 
 said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' But so different as they are ! Mr. Verney knowing every- 
 thing, and Johnny knowing nothing ! ' 
 
 'As to that, my dear, it is not to be doubted that Johnny 
 will be a great deal wiser in Heaven than he is now.' 
 
 ' Then why isn't he wise now ? Why should Mr. Verney 
 have all the cleverness, and he have none ? And why should 
 I like to listen to Mr. Verney, as I like to listen to music, 
 while Johnny's noises make me shudder ? Mrs. Patty, if 
 Johnny gets to Heaven, it will be no good to him to have been 
 an idiot on earth. He might just as well have been taken 
 there at once ; and so aiight I, and a great many others. 
 There is no place for us here • that is what I mean. You have 
 a place, and Dr. Kingsbury, and papa, and mamma ; — and 
 Mr. Verney must make himself one always, because he forces 
 people to listen to him, and he knows so much ; but all the 
 rest of us — Oh ! if I could only understand !' 
 
 'Perhaps you would if you did not puzzle yourself with 
 thinking so much,' said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' But I can't help it ! ' exclaimed Myra. ' I must think, for
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 83 
 
 the thoughts come whether I will or not. Mrs. Patty, did you 
 never think when you were a girl ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear, a good deal in my way ; but it was never a 
 clever way.' 
 
 'And you always were of use; you always had a place,' 
 continued Myra. 
 
 ' Not always, my dear ; but that did not trouble me as it 
 seems to do you, because somehow I had learnt to look at 
 things differently.' 
 
 'But how? Mrs. Patty ! do tell me; I can't bear to feel 
 as I do now.' 
 
 Myra's face, which the moment before had been pale from 
 recent illness, flushed with excitement as she spoke, and then 
 the colour faded away again, and she looked quite ill. 
 
 Mrs. Patty hurried on to a stile, which separated the Hall 
 fields from the Rectory garden. Making Myra seat herself 
 upon the step, she said, 'Just rest a minute, my dear; you 
 have walked too far. And don't flurry yourself; we will 
 finish our talk another day.' 
 
 Myra only repeated, ' What made you think differently from 
 me ? What do you mean by thinking differently ? ' 
 
 ' Thinking differently about this world and the next, my 
 dear.' 
 
 ' I do think about the next world,' said Myra gravely ; 'but 
 it will be so unlike this.' 
 
 ' No doubt, my dear, in some ways ; but shall I tell you a 
 little how I came to think as I do ? It was when I was about 
 thirteen years old. I don't fancy I was what people would 
 call a naughty child then, but I can't say I was particularly 
 good ; and I had a beautiful sister, much older and cleverer 
 than myself. She was going to be married, and she really 
 was very good, and every one said she would be useful and 
 kind, and teach others, and set a right example ; but the day 
 before the wedding, she went out riding, and was thrown from 
 her horse, and killed.' The last word was uttered in a lower 
 tone, and there was the pause of an instant ; then Mrs. Patty 
 went on. ' They brought her home, and laid her on her bed, 
 and 1 saw her. I had never seen any one dead before. They
 
 84 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 talked of it as her end, and I cried bitterly, and was very 
 frightened ; for I knew that such must be my end too.' 
 
 ' But she was good, and you knew she was gone to happi- 
 ness,' interrupted Myra. 
 
 ' Oh yes, I knew it ; at least I said it, and so did every one 
 else, but no one seemed to believe it ; and I could not under- 
 stand it, and wondered what she had lived for, and why she 
 had learnt what she did, and why I should learn anything. It 
 was all a puzzle to me, my dear, just as it might be to you. 
 But the day came for her funeral, and I asked to go, and 
 they let me go. The churchyard was quite close to the house, 
 so we all walked. It was a beautiful calm day, the fifth of 
 June ; I don't think there was a single cloud in the sky, and I 
 remember the only sound I heard, in the pauses of the clergy- 
 man's voice, was the singing of a lark. We all knelt by the 
 open grave, and the coffin was lowered, and the earth cast 
 upon it. I could have thrown myself down into the grave and 
 been buried too, for it seemed as though the end of all things 
 had come before me.' 
 
 * And it was the end of earth,' said Myra, and she seized 
 Mrs. Patty's hand. 
 
 ' Not quite so, my dear. I listened to the clergyman's words. 
 They had no meaning to me, but they stayed with me. I 
 walked home with the rest, and then I went away by myself 
 into a walled garden which we had, with straight walks, and 
 fruit trees, and borders of flowers, and very quiet. And there 
 I walked up and down, and thought. I said over to myself 
 again the verse in the burial service, " Blessed are the dead 
 which die in the Lord," and the words which complete the 
 text came to my mind, '"Their works do follow them." A 
 kind of new meaning seemed given to them. I thought of my 
 sister's works. They had followed her. Therefore she must 
 have carried away with her all she had done and learnt, and 
 would have to use it in the world to which she had gone.' 
 
 'And was that true ? ' said Myra. 
 
 'Surely so it must be,' said Mrs. Patty; 'for, Myra, I went 
 back to the churchyard after a while, and I stood by my sister's 
 grave again. It had been filled in, and even her coffin was
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 85 
 
 hid from me, and there was nothing left — no end, or object — 
 no work done, or remaining. That could not be what God, 
 who is so wise, intended. But I looked up, and God's sky was 
 above me, the sun shining bright around, whilst the moon and 
 stars were waiting to come out, and I knew that her spirit 
 was gone to dwell amongst them. If her works were to follow 
 her, then they could not be lost— they must have something to 
 do with the life she was to lead there. I was like a blind per- 
 son wakened to sight, my dear ; for I saw for the first time 
 that death was no end, but only a beginning.' 
 
 'Yet still the works ended with earth,' said Myra. 
 
 'No, my dear, no,' and Mrs. Patty's voice grew eager; 'do 
 you not see they were not meant for earth, they were the 
 preparation for Heaven. She had taken them with her.' 
 
 ' But where, and how ? What good can they be there ? ' 
 asked Myra doubtfully. 
 
 ' God knows, my dear ; I don't. I shall know hereafter. 
 But, Myra, after that day I did my duties with a lighter heart 
 and brighter spirit, for I felt that God had work for me to do 
 in Heaven, and that now I was fitting myself for it, and for 
 the place which He had made ready for me.' 
 
 'And Johnny Ford ?' said Myra; 'he has no work here; 
 he cannot be preparing for Heaven.' 
 
 ' Perhaps, my dear, his work is to make other people thought- 
 ful, and pitiful, and kind-hearted ; and in Heaven he will have 
 his duty and his place too ; who is to doubt it ? His poor brain 
 will be clear then, and God will set him to that for which he 
 is most suited. Easy work, no doubt.' 
 
 'And Mr. Verney ? ' continued Myra. 
 
 Mrs. Patty hesitated. ' The work that is to tell in Heaven, 
 my dear, must be that which is done on purpose for Heaven. 
 The work that is done for earth, you see, goes down with 
 us to our graves. I don't know enough of Mr. Verney yet, 
 to say what kind of work his may be ; and if I did, I might 
 not be the judge ; so, please, I would rather not talk of him. 
 Now, let me help you over the stile, and then you will be 
 close at home ; and I must go back, for the Doctor will be 
 wanting me.'
 
 86 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Whether Mrs. Patty's comment upon the particular text she 
 had chosen was strictly according to the interpretation of 
 divines, is certainly open to question ; but the idea which she 
 had suggested was destined to work upon Myra's wayward 
 unsettled mind to a degree for which Mrs. Patty in her sim- 
 plicity was quite unprepared. Not all at once, however; 
 Myra had not arrived at that state of mental energy in which, 
 when a new idea is presented to us, we examine into, and 
 ponder upon it, and discuss objections, and finally reach a 
 definite conclusion. Her opinions were as yet held in solu- 
 tion ; they had not crystallised themselves into shape; but the 
 process was constantly going on, though unknown to herself, 
 and probably all the more surely, and with a better prospect of 
 becoming permanently fixed, because" they were not received 
 in a settled form from others, but were worked out by her 
 own experience. Such opinions become principles, and prin- 
 ciples become influential motives. 
 
 Yet Myra was certainly changed since her illness ; every one 
 noticed it, and she was aware of it herself. That she was 
 God's child, that He could be pleased with her, was a thought 
 too pleasant to be put aside ; and there were moments when, 
 after some effort at self-control, some little kindness shown to 
 her sisters, or some act of obedience to her mother, the con- 
 sciousness of that loving approbation seemed to thrill through 
 her, and bring a glow of happiness, as new as it was delightful. 
 With that happiness came also the sense of her Saviour's 
 presence ; the feeling, and not merely the acknowledgment, 
 that He was her Friend, — that she might go to Him at any 
 moment : and then came the longing to take advantage of 
 that permission, the yearning for prayer and its rest. It was 
 all very quiet and hidden. Myra was even more sensitive as 
 to notice when religion was concerned, than she was when her 
 studies were in question. And she was full of faults, and the
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORL ; 7 
 
 old traditions clung to her. In the circle of Yare Hall she 
 was still ' That odd, uncomfortable girl, whom no one can 
 understand;' only it so happened that, in spite of her oddity 
 and uncomfortableness, Juliet and Annette were beginning to 
 turn to her in a difficulty ; and Rosamond was learning to 
 make use of her, by sending her to attend upon her mother, 
 whenever she wished to be free herself. 
 
 And this was not seldom. It was rather a gay time at the 
 Hall. Godfrey and Edmund were paying a longer visit than 
 usual. And this brought Mr. Verney to the house, sometimes 
 accompanied by his cousin Elise, but very often alone. And 
 with Mr. Verney came a great deal that could not strictly be 
 called dissipation, or waste of time, though it certainly was of 
 that nature. 
 
 He had left off talking upon India now, except to Mr. 
 Cameron, and had adopted the musical and artistic line, 
 which he found more suited to the general tastes. Godfrey's 
 tastes, indeed, were universal ; he would have discoursed as 
 readily upon Blackstone's Commentaries, as upon the styles 
 of the early painters, or the merits of great composers ; but 
 Edmund had a real passion for music, and sang glees with a 
 stentorian voice, and an energy which never flagged. They 
 were a very well-suited party, and very natural and right it 
 was that Rosamond should make herself agreeable to her 
 brothers, and her brothers' friend ; and whilst Mrs. Cameron 
 reclined on her sofa in the boudoir, within the drawing-room, 
 and Myra sat at the writing-table to attend to her many needs, 
 there could be no possible objection to the young people's 
 spending pleasant mornings together, more especially as Mr. 
 Verney was really not young, but rather worn out and hypo- 
 chondriacal, and so very indolent and peculiar, that no one 
 would ever think of him, except as a specimen of Indian 
 curiosities. If he liked any one, it was Myra; he always 
 talked more rationally to her than to the others. This was 
 Mrs. Cameron's reply to a remark made by Mrs. Patty, who, 
 {n the innocence of her heart, ventured one day the very 
 natural observation, ' That if persons were thrown together, 
 results would follow ; and she should not be surprised if Mr.
 
 88 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Verney were to lose his heart to Rosamond.' Mrs. Patty saw 
 no objection to such a possibility, and therefore did not 
 hesitate to suggest it ; but the very decided negative which 
 was put upon it, proved that the consummation was by no 
 means devoutly wished, though Mrs. Cameron took no steps 
 to prevent it. 
 
 And perhaps she was right. There were as yet no symptoms 
 that Mr. Verney was falling in love with any one, and to put 
 an unexpected stop to such intercourse is, in the generality of 
 cases, very like telling the mob not to cut off the constable's 
 ears ! The prohibition excites the wish. So Mr. Verney 
 came, morning after morning, and sometimes brought sketches 
 and photographs to be looked over and criticised, and some- 
 times professed to have a great wish for a little music ; whilst 
 at other times he was not inclined to do anything but sit on a 
 low seat in the bay window, talking nonsense to the dog, inter- 
 spersed with a little good-natured satire addressed to Myra, if 
 she happened to come into the room — satire which always had 
 for its object her supposed learned tastes, and which Myra bore 
 with toferable equanimity, because it was quite evident that in 
 his heart Mr. Verney sympathised with them. 
 
 He came one morning, bringing with him a collection of 
 engravings, etchings, and photographs, which were to form a 
 series of specimens of the works of the Pre-Raphaelite masters. 
 They were heaped together in a portfolio, with no attempt at 
 order. < He had had no time to arrange them,' he said, ' when 
 he was travelling in Italy ; and since his arrival in England — 
 he did not know how it happened — perhaps the cause was 
 indolence — he hoped it might be attributed to invalidism — 
 but anyhow, he had done nothing with them. There they 
 were, a complete chaos ; but if Miss Cameron would take pity 
 on them, and put them into a book, his cousin Elise would 
 lend her aid ; they both had so much taste, and ladies' fingers 
 were so well calculated for work of this kind. He should be 
 under a weight of infinite obligation, but it would be less heavy 
 to bear than the present burden upon his conscience of a resolu- 
 tion unfulfilled.' All this was said in rather an irritating tone of 
 taking it for granted that the young ladies would be more than
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. ! > 
 
 willing to gratify him, a lone which Mr. Verney every now and 
 then adopted when he was physically out of order, and did not 
 choose to exert himself to be agreeable. The book was laid 
 upon the table by the servant who had brought it from Stor- 
 mont, whilst Elise Verney, really taking pleasure in the pro- 
 spect of the work, entreated Rosamond to join her in looking 
 them over, and to give her opinion as to what should be done 
 with them. 
 
 •Rosamond was copying music at a table in the recess of a 
 distant window. She merely looked up in answer, and said, 
 that 'she should have thought some good printseller in London 
 might give an opinion upon the subject more worth having than 
 hers.' 
 
 ' More worth as to the fashion of the day,' said Mr. Verney 
 indifferently ; ' but these are just the things which one would 
 desire to see treated without regard to fashion.' 
 
 ' A printseller would be much perplexed by a good many 
 of them, I suspect,' said Godfrey, as he drew near the table. 
 ' Have you many of the Siennese School here ? They are 
 the only things worth looking at in early art. Cimabue, you 
 know, is a modern compared with Guido da Siena. Of course 
 you saAV that picture of his in the S. Domenico ; ' and without 
 waiting for an answer he went on, as he turned over the con- 
 tents of the portfolio : ' Ah ! I see you have Duccio di Buonin- 
 segna and Simone Memmi, and here are Sano di Pietro, and 
 Mcrtteo da Siena, but there are a good many between Maestro 
 Gilio, Dietisalvi, Ambrogio, Lorenzetti, all that goodly list of 
 which specimens are to be seen in the Istituto delle belle Arti. 
 You will have some trouble in making your collection perfect.' 
 
 ' I am not obliged to follow precisely the guidance of 
 Murray,' said Mr. Verney in a dry tone; ' I am not so well 
 up in him as you are,' — and turning to Myra, who had been 
 attracted by hearing of a portfolio, and after looking at it shyly, 
 was returning to her post at the writing-table, he asked her if 
 she had ever seen any of the works of the very early masters, 
 and if she knew their characteristics. Myra had listened to 
 her brother's catalogue of names with some alarm. She had 
 been two or three times to the National Gallery, and knew how
 
 go A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 to distinguish Raphael from Paul Veronese ; but more than 
 this she had never thought of attempting. Such an intimate 
 acquaintance with long buried painters was much more astound- 
 ing than Greek and Latin quotations. The latter she might 
 be permitted to disown any knowledge of, but painting was 
 an art which, of course, women ought to be acquainted with. 
 Myra was not simple, at least not by nature ; she. was always 
 alive to what people would say and think of her ; and she with- 
 drew, though very unwillingly, that she might be out of tlfe 
 reach of awkward questions, and it was just then that Mr. 
 Vemey seized upon her. 
 
 A glance of relief and pleasure brightened up her face ; she 
 was almost pretty as she came forward and said directly, 
 ' That she knew nothing about the early masters, and should 
 like very much to learn.' But the words were scarcely out of 
 her lips before Rosamond appeared at the table, and insisted 
 upon being a pupil also ; ' She was so very dreadfully ignor- 
 ant,' she said, ' it would be quite charity to teach her.' And 
 Elise added in her little plaintive voice, 'That it must be so 
 charming to be so clever, and know so much about art as her 
 cousin and Mr. Godfrey ; but then her cousin had travelled, 
 and every one knew that Mr. Godfrey was wonderful.' 
 
 ' Quite!' said Mr. Verney ; ' we will have our lecture, Myra, 
 another time.' He called her Myra, on the strength of his 
 forty years, but he had taken care to apologise for the liberty 
 in the presence of Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 ' 1 don't like favouritism,' said Rosamond, laughing. ' You 
 and I, Elise, are considered too old and too dull to be Mr. 
 Verney's pupils.' 
 
 ' Nay,' was the rejoinder, ' but I had already proposed to 
 burden you with work, and I was unwilling to occupy more of 
 your attention, as you seemed so deeply engaged.' 
 
 ' I am only copying a duet,' replied Rosamond. ' Ehse, will 
 you come and try it over with me ? ' 
 
 Edmund, who had been sitting apart reading the newspaper, 
 started up at this proposal, and went to open the piano ; but 
 Rosamond, though the suggestion for music had been her own, 
 did not appear at all inclined to act upon it. She lingered by
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 91 
 
 the table. Godfrey was looking at the photographs with an 
 air of sulky criticism, and she leaned over his shoulder and 
 interspersed her remarks with his. ' That is a good one ; and 
 so is that ; and, oh ! Mr. Verncy, is this a Sano di Pietro ? or,' 
 she added, as an aside, 'Give me another unknown name, 
 Godfrey.' 
 
 Mr. Verney was still talking to Myra, but he turned abruptly 
 to Rosamond before the sentence was finished. She held in 
 her hand a little carte de visite ; as his eye fell upon it, a slight 
 tinge of colour, scarcely to be perceived, except by some one 
 who was closely watching him, reddened his sallow cheeks. 
 
 ' That,' he said carelessly — ' Oh ! that must be — let me 
 remember. I have collected several things of the kind merely 
 as specimens of photography.' 
 
 Rosamond pointed to the initials, C.S., in the corner, and 
 said : ' It must be an acquaintance, at least.' 
 
 ' Yes, I recollect now, a kind of cousin ; at least, a lady who 
 claimed relationship, though she never managed to prove it. 
 I don't know how she happened to find a place amongst my 
 treasures. I must put her elsewhere.' Mr. Verney held out 
 his hand, so that Rosamond could find no excuse for retaining 
 the photograph. It was placed in a pocket letter-case ; and 
 then, instead of resuming his conversation with Myra, Mr. 
 Verney devoted himself to his portfolio, looking over its con- 
 tents with the greatest care, whilst he urged Godfrey to give 
 him the benefit of his knowledge of art, as it appeared he was 
 not likely to obtain much aid from the young ladies. 
 
 They were soon engaged in a discussion which was worth 
 listening to, and Myra became so interested that she forgot her 
 mother and the letters, as, leaning over the table, under pre- 
 tence of looking at some etchings, she eagerly drank in all 
 that was being said ; Godfrey's quick captious negatives and 
 objections only bringing out more clearly Mr. Verney's real 
 taste and information. Rosamond, in the meantime, had 
 tngaged Elise Verney in a subject which had reference to the 
 proposed work, and in which Elise was a first-rate authority. 
 A. neat illuminated border might, she thought, be an advantage 
 to the prints and etchings ; could Elise suggest any pattern
 
 92 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 that would be appropriate ? So they were both occupied, and 
 apparently both engrossed, except that Rosamond every now 
 and then asked for a specimen lying close to Mr. Verney, and 
 then apologised for interrupting him, excusing herself at the 
 same time on the plea of wishing to judge what space it would 
 occupy in a book. Her voice was so very soft and sweet on 
 these occasions, it was quite singular to observe how at the 
 moment her brother Edmund would start up from a reverie 
 over the newspaper, and give a push to a chair or a footstool, 
 and utter a slight exclamation, as if he was annoyed. No one 
 noticed it except Myra, and she looked up at him with less of 
 wonder than of sympathy ; and at last she left Mr. Verney 
 and Godfrey in the middle of their conversation, and went 
 back to her letter-writing in the boudoir. 
 
 The result of that morning's conversation was that Rosamond 
 and Elise undertook, not only to arrange the contents of Mr. 
 Verney's portfolio, but to ornament the book in which they 
 were to be placed ; whil-st Myra, at Mr. Verney's suggestion, 
 agreed, with her mother's permission, to spend a little time 
 each day in looking at the specimens of the different masters, 
 Mr. Verney sitting by and pointing out their merits and 
 peculiarities. As Mrs. Verney said when she heard of the pro- 
 position, ' It was delightful to watch the rapid blossoming of a 
 young and ardent mind, under the invigorating influence of a 
 very cultivated intellect:' a remark to which Mrs. Cameron 
 thoroughly assented, adding that 'It was singular to observe 
 how much Myra had improved since she had spent more time 
 with persons older than herself. She really was growing quite 
 companionable.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 93 
 
 CHAPTER XII I. 
 
 Myra certainly was growing much more companionable, and 
 not only that, but much more useful ; so useful, indeed, that 
 Miss Greaves was often tempted to occupy more of her time 
 in the schoolroom than was quite compatible with other claims ; 
 whilst Mrs. Patty — her latent affection for Myra fostered by 
 the circumstances which had thrown them together — was con- 
 stant in her suggestions of parish duties, — the poor, and the 
 schools, about the latter of which Dr. Kingsbury was particu- 
 larly anxious. 
 
 It was difficult at times to balance these separate claims, 
 and Myra had no one to help her — no one to whom she could 
 go and open her heart, and from whom she might seek advice. 
 Dr. Kingsbury, good and excellent though he was, was not at 
 all at home in the little intricacies of a young girl's life. He 
 could suggest principles, but he believed that the working of 
 them must be left to the conscience of each individual. Perhaps 
 he carried this system of non-interference a little too far ; it 
 certainly had the effect of throwing Myra back upon herself, 
 and making her shy with him. He had noticed that, although 
 confirmed, she was never seen at the Holy Communion, and 
 one day he spoke to her about it, but rather drily, and without 
 appearing to suppose that she could have any difficulties ; and 
 Myra, self-distrusting, often wayward, and always inclined to 
 be exacting, fancied he took no interest in her, and had men- 
 tioned the subject only from duty, and brooded over her vexation, 
 till she made it a grievance which became almost a reason for 
 delay. She had, as she said to herself, so many faults ; — if 
 Dr. Kingsbury were aware of them he would never urge such 
 an act upon her ; but he knew nothing about her, and she 
 could never find courage to talk to him, and so she must wait 
 and think about it. This morbidness was very dangerous. It 
 might have been fatal to Myra's newly awakened principles but
 
 94 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 for one characteristic, which, humanly speaking, was her safe- 
 guard. She was thoroughly true — true, not only in word and 
 act, but in her secret heart, in her desire to understand and 
 acknowledge without disguise or extenuation all that was wrong 
 in herself. When Myra erred in self-knowledge it was from 
 ignorance, not wilfulness, and therefore the view which she 
 took of her own character and of the claims of duty, was free 
 from that great and most ruinous defect of one-sidedness. As 
 she had no pet faults, so she had no pet virtues — the latter 
 being quite as destructive of the balance of moral principles as 
 the former. And it was this which was the root of her rapid 
 improvement. There are many whose feelings have, like hers, 
 been touched by some particular exhibition of Christian truth, 
 and who have in consequence made stricter resolutions to lead 
 a Christian life ; but the resolution, in so far as it has assumed 
 any definite form, has, in general, had reference to some par- 
 ticular fault, supposed to be the great stumblingblock in the 
 way of goodness. Myra's resolution — and it was not made in 
 her own strength — was that she would try in everything, that 
 she would look out for duty, and not wait till it came to her ; 
 and then the truthfulness of her nature, through God's mercy, 
 came to her aid, and day by day her eyes were more open to see 
 what was incumbent upon her, and wherein she failed. 
 
 And so with regard to the solemn act which Dr. Kingsbury 
 had urged upon her, Myra in no way turned from it, or shut 
 her eyes to the fact that it was a duty. Her morbidness and 
 shyness operated only to defer it till she could find some means 
 of resolving certain doubts and difficulties which troubled her 
 conscience, and which she would at once have placed before 
 Dr. Kingsbury if he had given her encouragement. 
 
 Most innocent he was of any idea of discouraging or alarm- 
 ing her. In the simplicity of his heart he believed that he 
 had said all that was necessary to invite confidence, if it was 
 needed ; and accustomed to the sight of his own clever face 
 and quaint brown wig, unaware of the effect of his old-fashioned 
 politeness, and so intimate with St. Augustine and the Fathers, 
 that he could not understand why learning, so easy of acquisi- 
 tion, should inspire the slightest awe, it was a matter of daily
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 95 
 
 wonder to him why the little girl, as he often called Myra, 
 should be so evidently afraid of him, creeping into his study 
 like a mouse ; and speaking in a tone which often he could 
 scarcely hear. The only explanation of the mystery was that 
 shyness belonged to the nature of girls, and he, being a man, 
 must make up his mind that he could not understand it. 
 
 It was about a week after the art mania, as Edmund called 
 it, had seized upon the family. Myra had spent a pleasant 
 half-hour with Mr. Verney — pleasanter even than usual, for she 
 was becoming more and more at ease with him — and they had 
 on this day wandered away from the styles of the early masters 
 to the subjects which they chose ; and some things he had 
 said had given her what she fancied was a glimpse into his 
 mind, and awakened a suspicion that he had deeper and more 
 serious thoughts than he would allow to appear on the surface. 
 Such a discovery, made as it seemed by herself alone, awakened 
 an interest which, when added to her admiration of his talents, 
 greatly increased her pleasure in his society. And now, as she 
 walked with Juliet and Annette in the direction of Miss Medley's 
 cottage, it was quite an effort to withdraw her thoughts from 
 speculating upon what he had said, and what he meant, and 
 keep up the conversation which Juliet endeavoured to force 
 upon her. 
 
 ' You are growing so grand and learned,' said the latter, as 
 Myra made some rather ill-timed observation about the delights 
 of travelling and picture galleries, ' that there is no bearing you. 
 I wish Mr. Verney would take himself back to India again ; 
 the house is quite changed since he came.' 
 
 ' Yes, indeed it is ; Miss Greaves says so,' added Annette, 
 ' and she must know.' 
 
 ' Neither you nor Rosamond care in the least about Mr. 
 Brownlow's sketches now,' continued Juliet. ' Rosamond said 
 yesterday that landscape sketches were not worth looking at ; 
 and there is no chance of Annette's having the drawing prize, 
 for she has no one to finish up her drawings for her now that 
 Rosamond spends her time over Mr. Verney's book of en- 
 gravings.'
 
 96 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Annette began to disclaim the imputation'of needing such 
 aid, but she was instantly stopped by her provoking sister. 
 
 ' Truth will out, Annette. You know you have been in a 
 perfect fume the whole morning because Rosamond has not 
 been near you.' 
 
 ' I know I have failed,' said Annette fretfully. ' It was 
 stupid in me to say I would try.' 
 
 ' Yes, till you had quite secured Rosamond's assistance,' 
 persisted Juliet. 
 
 ' How can you be so tiresome, Juliet ? ' exclaimed Myra. 
 
 ' Tiresome, but true. You were ill, Myra, when the business 
 begun, so you can know nothing about it.' 
 
 Annette took up the injured tone. ' Juliet,' she said, ' was 
 always so ill-natured ; and now that Myra was so little in the 
 schoolroom, there was no one to be her friend.' 
 
 Myra always felt very irritable when Annette was mournful 
 about nothing ; but her voice only slightly betrayed it on the 
 present occasion as she said, with an endeavour to be candid, 
 that she was afraid she had not been any one's friend in the 
 schoolroom. 
 
 ' Quite true,' exclaimed Juliet ; ' Annette and I do much 
 better when we are left alone, except when she has a fit of the 
 glooms upon her. I think, Myra, she caught them from you.' 
 
 Myra bit her lip. Juliet certainly was in a most provoking 
 mood that morning, and Myra's only hope of keeping her 
 temper was by being silent. Even that remedy, however, 
 nearly failed • for thought will be busy when the lips are closed, 
 and Myra found herself saying all kinds of bitter things to 
 Juliet in her own heart, till a sudden consciousness of what she 
 was doing came across her with a pang. It was a very great 
 effort then to make a little good-natured remark about the pro- 
 bability of rain and of their being unprovided with umbrellas ; 
 but it was made, and when the words were uttered the impend- 
 ing storm of temper had passed away. 
 
 Just then they found themselves in front of Miss Medley's 
 cottage. It was at the entrance of the village, and a little 
 discussion took place as to whether it would be wise to stop 
 there and borrow an umbrella. Myra thought it did not signify,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF Till': WORLD. 97 
 
 Juliet thought it did, and Juliet gained the day ; for she in- 
 sisted upon it that Myra should run no risk of getting wet, and 
 was so really anxious about her that Myra was at length per- 
 suaded to wait at Miss Medley's, and send her sisters to do 
 what was to be done in the village. 
 
 They knocked at Miss Medley's door, and whilst waiting for 
 the servant to come, Juliet, who had been looking down the 
 village street, turned abruptly to Myra, and exclaimed — 
 
 ' Myra, I was wrong about the glooms ; I ought not to have 
 said it.' 
 
 Myra only smiled ; there was no time to say anything else, 
 for the front-door was opened by Miss Medley, whilst at the 
 same instant the parlour door was rather violently closed by 
 some one in the room. 
 
 Miss Medley looked a little unlike her usual self; she spoke 
 in a flurried tone, and was very slow at comprehending what 
 was wanted. 
 
 ' An umbrella, my dears ? yes ; but there are three of you 
 One for each, do you want ? I will ask Mrs. Haynes, but I 
 don't think she has two. And then how can vou manasre? — 
 dear me ! very unfortunate it is.' She gently pushed them all 
 before her into Mrs. Haynes's room, disturbing the good 
 woman just as she was sitting down to mend her husband's 
 shirts. 
 
 Myra was too shy to explain what was needed, but Juliet 
 never knew what it was to be shy, and at once enlightened 
 Miss Medley's mind. 
 
 ' They would borrow one umbrella, or two as it might be 
 convenient ; but Myra wished to know if she might wait and 
 see if the rain would pass over.' 
 
 ' Certainly, my dear ; no doubt, colds are very dangerous, 
 and frequently brought on by getting wet. Yes, wait, my dear 
 Myra; pray wait. Mrs. Haynes' 
 
 Miss Medley seemed brought to a stand-still, and Mrs. 
 Haynes looked and listened. 
 
 ' An umbrella, Mrs. Haynes, if you please ; mine, if you 
 would be good enough to fetch it. In the left hand corner of 
 my room, my bedroom, Mrs. Haynes ; the left hand corner, 
 
 G
 
 9 3 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 near the window ; — no, not the parlour.' Miss Medley followed 
 Mrs. Haynes out of the room, and contrived to close the door 
 behind her. They heard her go into the parlour, and she did 
 fcpt come back till Mrs. Haynes returned with the umbrella. 
 
 Juliet and Annette would then have departed, but Miss 
 Medley kept them talking, asking them a series of questions, 
 which she scarcely gave them time to answer. Myra was 
 impatient, for they were expected home at a certain hour. 
 She was watching for a pause, which might enable her to 
 suggest to her sisters that they should go, when she heard 
 some one open the front door and go out. Almost directly 
 afterwards Miss Medley was seized with a sudden perception 
 of the fact, that if they wished to do what they had to do, 
 before the rain came on, they would be wise not to delay. 
 She ushered them out of the house even more quickly than 
 she had ushered them in, and then took Myra into the 
 parlour. 
 
 ' You will find things rather in confusion, my dear, I am 
 afraid. I have been looking over letters and papers. Long 
 past they are. You know nothing about such things now ; 
 you will if you live long enough. They bring many thoughts, 
 my dear ; sad ones for the most part ; experience of men, 
 saddest of all.' 
 
 ' O Miss Medley ! ' exclaimed Myra. She stopped — 
 thunderstruck at such an avowal. Reverence for men was 
 not only part of her womanly nature, but the result of her 
 education. Who that lived in the daily sunlight of Mr. 
 Cameron's excellences, could doubt the superiority of the 
 masculine character in all things ? 
 
 ' You are surprised, my dear ; shocked perhaps. I have 
 known many who feel with you ; few indeed who feel with me. 
 But I always say wait ; wait and see ; try them ; prove them ; 
 watch them. Ah, Myra ! — but it does no good to talk. I 
 will just put up my papers, and if you like to take a book, you 
 won't interrupt me ; I know you are fond of reading.' 
 
 Myra was thankful for the permission. She never knew 
 what to say to Miss Medley, and she felt a certain mistrust of 
 her now, such as a person might be conscious of who had
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 99 
 
 heard another give utterance to some heretical Christian 
 doctrine. She took up a pamphlet ; it was the Report of the 
 Homoeopathic Hospital, and not tempting. A dusky book 
 by its side proved to be a volume of Blair's Sermons, which 
 was still less inviting ; and at last she had recourse to the 
 book-case, and as usual seized upon the first author whose 
 name she knew, and tried to solace herself with Burton's 
 1 Anatomy of Melancholy ; ' but it was not till Miss Medley, 
 having finished reading some letters, apologised for leaving 
 her, and went upstairs, that Myra really breathed freely. She 
 looked round the little room then, and fell into a reverie. 
 Everything she saw was familiar to her eye, for she had known 
 Miss Medley as long as she could remember ; but neither 
 furniture nor books conveyed any idea to her mind as to their 
 owner's history. Miss Medley had lived in Yare for more 
 than five-and-twenty years. That was like going back to the 
 date of the Deluge with Myra, and she looked upon Miss 
 Medley, in consequence, as we might be supposed to look 
 upon an antediluvian ; a specimen of an age and a state of 
 society to which there could be no counterpart in the present 
 day. And it was not till lately that Myra had formed distinct 
 ideas of individuals, except as they affected herself, and so 
 had become in a measure a part of herself. The blending of 
 things essentially distinct would seem to be the infant state of 
 the human mind, as it is of the human sight. As the child 
 only learns by degrees and by experience that the chair and 
 the wall are not one and the same flat surface, but separate 
 objects with distinct uses, so, in like manner, it is taught 
 gradually that the beings who form a part of its little world 
 are not necessarily part and parcel of that world, but have 
 feelings and wishes, hopes and fears, apart from and superior 
 to it. 
 
 Myra was awakening to the romance of reality — that 
 romance which is far higher and deeper than any fiction ; 
 S.\d she indulged herself now in a speculative and imaginative 
 retrospect of Miss Medley's life, based upon that one remark- 
 able expression, ' Experience of men, saddest of all.' A gust 
 from the half-open door blew some papers from the table to
 
 ioo A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 the floor ; Myra started up to prevent others from following 
 their fate, and whilst looking for a weight to lay upon them, 
 she saw a glove which had been hidden by them — a large 
 man's glove, one which she could not help recognising, be- 
 cause of its peculiar colour — Mr. Verney's glove. It did not 
 strike her as singular; very few incidents do so strike us at 
 the moment that they occur. She supposed Mr. Verney must 
 have been paying a visit to Miss Medley, and very probably it 
 was he who had left the house whilst they were talking about 
 the umbrella. So natural indeed it all was to Myra, that 
 when Miss Medley came back again she said to her, most 
 innocently, ' O Miss Medley ! I have picked up Mr. Verney's 
 glove. I know it by the strange colour • he must have left it 
 just now.' 
 
 Myra could not help noticing the change in Miss Medley. 
 She grew pale and very nervous, and her reply was incoherent. 
 
 ' Mr. Verney's glove, my dear ! Oh no ! it must be mine 
 — or Mrs. Haynes's, or — I don't know how things come here. 
 Just give it to me ; I may have brought it away by mistake ; 
 I was calling at Stormont last week.' 
 
 ' But I saw him with both gloves on yesterday/ said Myra, 
 curiosity leading her to an absence of tact and consideration, 
 for which conscience the next moment reproached her. 
 
 ' He may have a good many pairs ; I don't know — I can't 
 understand ! ' Poor Miss Medley was perplexed to the very 
 verge of untruthfulness. She paused, and then, with the 
 impulse to relieve herself, said : ' Myra ! I know you are to 
 be trusted ; Mrs. Patty always tells me so. You won't say to 
 any one that Mr. Verney was here just now?' 
 
 ' Oh no ! certainly not ; if you wish it to be a secret.' 
 
 ' But I don't wish it to be a secret ! I don't care ! O 
 Myra ! never have anything to do with men — never, never !' 
 Miss Medley's voice was pathetic in its earnestness. 
 
 Myra was not a child when she saw another person failing 
 in self-control. The sight roused her latent powers of judg- 
 ment, and now, quietly and with some dignity, she said, ' I 
 should never repeat anything which I was asked not to repeat. 
 You may be quite sure I shall say nothing about Mr. Verney.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. ioi 
 
 1 Not at home — to your father or your mother — not to any 
 one ; you are quite sure ? ' 
 
 ' Quite,' replied Myra rather shortly. 
 
 'Then, my dear, just sit down and don't trouble yourself 
 about me; don't think anything about it at all, but just forget 
 it. Mr. Verney came to see me on a little business — a little 
 private business, nothing of consequence, and — But here are 
 Juliet and Annette.' 
 
 Miss Medley hurried to the door with most unmistakable 
 satisfaction, yet, before opening it, she returned to repeat, ' I 
 may quite trust you ; I know I may ? ' To which Myra could 
 only answer, ' Yes, of course.' And being certain that Miss 
 Medley would not be thoroughly happy till she was out of the 
 house, she followed her, and met her sisters in the passage. 
 
 Miss Medley's hospitable temper struggled with her nervous- 
 ness as she entreated them all to wait a little longer with her ; 
 but Myra was decided ; and Juliet added her assurance that 
 ' the threatening of rain had passed away for the present ; 
 indeed, Mr. Verney, whom they had met, had assured them 
 it was likely to be fine all the afternoon. He felt so sure of 
 it himself that he was going up to the Hall to ask if Rosa- 
 mond and Godfrey, or Edmund, would go out riding.' 
 
 ' I don't believe it is going to be fine. Tell her not to go ; 
 she will be sure to get wet,' said Miss Medley. Juliet laughed 
 and turned away. 'Tell her I said so; beg her not to go,' 
 called out Miss Medley in her shrillest tones ; but her warning 
 fell on very heedless ears ; and only Myra looked back and 
 said, 'Yes, we will tell her. Good-bye, Miss Medley; and 
 thank you very much for the shelter.'
 
 102 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ' And Rosamond is going to London with the Verneys ? ' said 
 Mrs. Patty, taking her seat by Mrs. Cameron's sofa, about ten 
 days after Myra's visit to Miss Medley. 
 
 ' So I hear,' was the reply ; and as Mrs. Patty looked sur- 
 prised, Mrs. Cameron added, ' Young people in these days 
 order things very much as they choose, my dear Miss Kings- 
 bury ; and Rosamond is of an ago to judge for herself as to 
 her own movements.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty's face expressed dissent, which she refrained 
 from uttering. Mrs. Cameron continued ; ' The Verneys are 
 very kind, and press it ; and really I don't know what objec- 
 tion to make. This place is dull ; and my health prevents 
 my going out, and indeed interferes with my doing half that I 
 wish for Rosamond. She ought to see the world ; she ought 
 to have opportunities ' 
 
 ' Of marrying?' asked Mrs. Patty simply. 
 
 ' Well ! yes ; I suppose there is no harm in acknowledging 
 it. Rosamond is, of course, a charge to me, different from 
 one of my own children. I should never think as much about 
 Myra's marrying ; I can't tell why.' 
 
 ' Perhaps because she is less likely to think about it herself,' 
 said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' Perhaps so. Myra is much improved lately, and is becom- 
 ing a pleasant companion • and she waits upon me a good deal. 
 I feel no inclination to part with her just yet ; and happily 
 there is no necessity. But Mrs. Verney has talked to me a 
 good deal about Rosamond. She says — and I am afraid it 
 is true — that I have failed to develop her properly; that she 
 has the germs of genius, but that they are likely to be dwarfed 
 for want of culture ; and she thinks that London society may 
 do a good deal for her.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 103 
 
 'Then she is to go out, and to have what people call a 
 season in London ? ' said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' Not exactly that. Rosamond's position scarcely entitles 
 her to mix in very fashionable life.' 
 
 ' What a blessing ! ' ejaculated Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' I daresay it is. Mrs. Verney disapproves of such society 
 quite as much as you or I should ; but literary and intellectual 
 society must be good for a young girl ; and wherever Mr. Verney 
 is, there will be society of that kind.' 
 
 ' But,' and Mrs. Patty's eyes opened widely, 'I don't quite, 
 understand. Is Rosamond going to London for the sake of 
 being with Mr. Verney? because — perhaps I ought not to say 
 it — but that strikes me as just a little odd.' 
 
 ' Dear Mrs. Patty, you are so matter of fact. Mr. Verney 
 is nothing to Rosamond, and Rosamond is nothing to him. 
 He is a worn-out Indian invalid ; and she is a young girl just 
 entering life. He is quite a tutor to her.' 
 
 ' But tutors fall in love,' persisted Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' Oh yes, at times, under certain circumstances ; but you 
 need not trouble yourself now. It is all quite safe ; they have 
 not the slightest thought of each other ; and, in fact, if they 
 had, nothing would be more desirable than to put Rosamond 
 in the way of seeing some one else. Here they are necessarily 
 thrown together continually.' 
 
 There was just enough truth in this statement to satisfy 
 Mrs. Cameron's conscience that she was not making a mis- 
 take in sending Rosamond away from her ; but it failed to 
 satisfy Mrs. Patty 
 
 ' If there is no objection to the marriage, supposing they 
 should happen to like each other,' she continued, ' then, of 
 course, it is all right.' 
 
 4 But I did not say that; there would be great objection ; 
 it could not be ; Mr. Cameron would not hear of it,' exclaimed 
 Mrs Cameron, growing excited ; ' and, in fact — But we are 
 troubling ourselves quite unnecessarily, for Mr. Verney will 
 only be in London occasionally while Rosamond is there. He 
 has visits to pay ; Mrs. Verney told me that. I could not refuse 
 Rosamond's going when every one wished it so much. 7
 
 104 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 could not put Mr. Verney as an objection, when she sees him 
 here every day; and when — Bat, dear Mrs. Patty, there is 
 nothing in it — nothing ; if you only would not talk of it.' 
 
 ' Certainly I won't, if you wish me not to do it,' was the 
 reply ; ' and you must forgive me if I said anything which may 
 have seemed interfering. The Doctor tells me I am too apt 
 to speak what is in my mind, without proper consideration.' 
 
 ' No forgiveness is required, dear Mrs. Patty. I am quite 
 sure it is only the interest you have in my children. And now, 
 shall we talk about the Idiot Asylum ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Patty was but little given to satirical remarks generally; 
 but a question did arise in her mind then — which must occur 
 to many of us as we go on in life — whether there were not as 
 many idiots without the walls of the asylum as within it ; 
 whether common sense — the ordinary sense given to rational 
 beings — might not have proved to Mrs. Cameron, that if 
 there were strong objections against Rosamond's marrying 
 Mr. Verney, it was unwise to throw her constantly in his 
 society. 
 
 But Mrs. Patty was conscious of prejudice. She disliked 
 Mr. Verney, and could give no particular reason for her dis- 
 like. That was a very disagreeable consciousness for a person 
 naturally so charitable, and with the strict self-discipline which 
 was habitual to her, she was inclined to take herself to task for 
 the feeling, and strive hard against it. It was not softened 
 however, by the sight of Mr. Verney pacing the gravel terrace 
 in front of the house, in earnest conversation with Myra, 
 Falling in love was out of the question there. Myra was only 
 a child, and by no means attractive ; but what business had 
 he to take any notice of her ? What good could his society 
 do her? Her eyes followed them as they passed the window; 
 and Mrs. Cameron seized upon the incident as a kind of 
 apology for the weakness of which, in her heart, she was fully 
 conscious. 
 
 ' You see, dear Mrs. Patty, I was right ; Mr. Verney is quite 
 the old man, quite paternal; it is Myra in whom he interests 
 himself. I daresay they are talking upon some deep subject 
 now. Myra is so strange, and reads such curious old books ;
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 105 
 
 he is immensely amused with her. He told me the other day 
 that her mind was a complete study to him.' 
 
 But that might not be good for her,' observed Mrs. Patty ; 
 'it would be a pity for Myra to learn to think much of her- 
 self.' 
 
 'She is not likely to do that. He is so wonderfully clever ; 
 she looks up to him as to a superior being.' 
 
 'To Mr. Verney!' exclaimed Mrs. Patty, in a tone of un- 
 feigned surprise. 
 
 'Yes, intellectually — only intellectually. Of course, not 
 morally or religiously; Dr. Kingsbury has no rival with Myra 
 there.' 
 
 'I wish I could understand better,' exclaimed Mrs. Patty, 
 speaking rather to herself than to Mrs. Cameron; 'I don't 
 know what superior beings without morals or religion can be 
 like.' 
 
 Mrs. Cameron laughed : ' You do manage to accept one's 
 words so literally, dear Mrs. Patty. I had no intention of 
 taking away our good friend's character, and saying he has 
 no morals or religion ; I only meant that they are not his 
 strong points ; at least not to the same extent as they are Dr. 
 Kingsbury's.' 
 
 At that moment Mr. Verney and Myra happened to pass 
 the window again. Mrs. Patty rose from her seat. ' I must 
 go, Mrs. Cameron ; I never meant to stay so long.' 
 
 ' But the Idiot Asylum — is the canvass to begin at once ? 
 Will you send me the cards ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, thank you, directly ; this afternoon. Good-bye ! ' 
 
 Just as the door closed, Mrs. Cameron called out : ' If you 
 should see Myra, will you tell her to come in and write some 
 canvassing notes for me ? ' 
 
 Myra had been walking up and down the terrace for nearly 
 half an hour. The time had seemed to her not more than five 
 minutes. She had been reading Dante with Mr. Verney ; and 
 the reading had naturally led to conversation — poetical, histo- 
 rical, and then religious. Myra had read the ' Inferno ' by 
 herself, with difficulty, and she had been unable to appreciate 
 it. When Mr. Verney discussed it with her, it became a
 
 106 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 revelation of the great poet's mind — his principles, prejudices, 
 aims ; his hopes, and his despair. There was great pleasure 
 in this; but a more present interest — one to which it was 
 impossible to be insensible — lay in the allusions, passing yet 
 betraying deep feeling, which from time to time the speaker 
 made to himself. 
 
 ' Lasciate ogni speranza voi cK entratej he repeated, as he 
 closed the canto in which the words occur ; and pushing the 
 book aside, he added abruptly : ' One needs fresh air and 
 clear skies after that. Won't you come out with me ? ' 
 
 So they went out upon the terrace; Myra feeling very timid, 
 not at all understanding her companion's mind, but longing 
 intensely to be able to do so. 
 
 ' Those words were written from the heart, if any ever 
 were,' continued Mr. Verney. 'They are associated with the 
 Inferno, but in Dante's own mind they belong to earth.' 
 
 ' To give up hope ! ' said Myra ; ' but we must hope whilst 
 we live ! ' 
 
 ' So young things fancy,' was the reply ; ' and I daresay 
 there are some who can do so. I believe I was born without 
 hope. Do you know anything of phrenology, Myra ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, but what I have learnt from hearing people talk 
 about it. I know where the bump of self-esteem lies, because 7 
 — — - She paused and blushed. 
 
 'Well, why? I like to know how you pick up your know- 
 ledge.' 
 
 'Because,' said Myra, 'it was pointed out to me one 
 day.' 
 
 ' On the head of some particular person who was set down 
 immediately as a conceited booby.' 
 
 ' Oh no, not that ! ' exclaimed Myra eagerly. ' It was a 
 
 very clever person — a person whom we all ' Again there 
 
 was a sudden pause. 
 ' ' Whom you all admired ? ' 
 
 'Yes, a little, in a way; that is, I don't think he is con- 
 ceited.' 
 
 'That is right,' said Mr, Verney. 'Don't let yourself be 
 drawn away by such folly, Myra. Self-esteem, as it is the
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 107 
 
 fashion to call it, is as good as any other quality in its time and 
 place. A man is worth nothing without it.' 
 
 ' So I thought,' replied Myra, ' and I said it, but they 
 laughed at me.' 
 
 ' They — meaning whom ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! a good many people. Elise, and Rosamond, and 
 Juliet, and every one.' 
 
 ' Hold your own ground, my child, and learn to judge and 
 think for yourself; and especially, don't condemn other people 
 because they are not exactly formed after your own model.' 
 
 ' I have no model,' said Myra, ' except — we must all know 
 what we ought to be.' 
 
 Mr. Verney laughed. ' Must we ? That is precisely what 
 I should doubt. Do you think your notions of goodness and 
 Dante's would have agreed ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Myra decidedly. 
 
 ' You will have to do penance for conceit, after all. So you 
 are the great poet's equal in moral philosophy.' 
 
 ' I think Dante was religious,' said Myra timidly. 
 
 ' Oh yes ! religious. But I am not talking of religion now ; 
 we will put that aside.' 
 
 ' I don't comprehend,' said Myra. ' Is there any goodness 
 without religion ?' 
 
 < Socrates, Plato, Seneca ; a host of others. What do you 
 say to them ? ' 
 
 ' They were religious as far as they knew.' 
 
 'That is to say, they were philosophers, but they were not 
 Christians.' 
 
 Myra looked puzzled. Mr. Verney watched her compassion- 
 ately. ' My dear little girl, I don't want to upset your pretty 
 nursery notions. They are very good and useful ; keep them 
 as long as you can. Perhaps,' and he sighed, ' it might be 
 better for many of us if we could keep them longer ; but don't 
 let them render you narrow-minded. You think one thing 
 good, I think another good. Don't condemn me, and I won't 
 condemn you.' 
 
 ' But there is something good, something apart by itself, 
 true,' said Myra.
 
 ioS A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Mr. Verney shrugged his shoulders. ' Chi sa ? That is,' 
 and he spoke more cautiously as he noticed Myra's look of dis- 
 tress, ' no doubt there does exist something good, as you say ; 
 apart by itself; but whether we are able to understand it is 
 quite another question. And there your idol Dante would be 
 as much at variance with you as I am.' 
 
 ' Are you at variance with me ?' asked Myra. 
 
 Mr. Verney was tenderly kind in the tone of his reply. 
 'No, not at variance, dear child. I used a wrong word. But 
 ■ a worn disappointed man, who has learnt from experience to 
 disbelieve in abstract goodness, can scarcely be expected to 
 look at his fellow-creatures as a young thing like yourself 
 naturally does. Dante placed his great sinners in Inferno, 
 and his great saints in Paradiso. I am much more inclined 
 to put them all in Purgatorio.' 
 
 ' And not to believe in anything absolutely great and good ? » 
 exclaimed Myra. 
 
 ' On the other hand, not to believe in anything absolutely 
 bad — what you would call sinful,' replied Mr. Verney. ' You 
 see, it comes to the same thing in the end.' 
 
 Myra was silent, and it was just then that Mrs. Patty 
 appeared at the end of the terrace. 
 
 ' An excellent old lady, but marvellously quaint,' was Mr. 
 Verney's comment. ' I wish she would have done us the 
 favour to leave us alone.' 
 
 ' I wish so too,' replied Myra ; though as she said the words 
 a feeling of relief came over her, as if she was escaping from 
 something unreal. Yet she could not help saying to Mr. 
 Verney, 'Thank you very much for reading with me and talking. 
 It is very pleasant.' 
 
 ' Pleasant to me too,' he replied. ' I don't like talking with 
 every one.' 
 
 Myra went back to her mother to write the canvassing letters 
 for the Idiot Asylum. Then it was luncheon-time. And after 
 luncheon she was to go for a drive, and pay some morning 
 visits. She had but very few moments for thought until she 
 escaped to her own room after the late dinner, and before 
 tea was brought in. Yet all that time the same sense of
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 109 
 
 something unreal had oppressed her. It had made her feel 
 irritable, and very much inclined to be discontented. Little 
 duties seemed so very little, and great duties not much more 
 important. But for that plodding, habitual temperament, 
 which made her always anxious to do what she had been 
 accustomed to do, or what she had resolved upon, she might 
 have been much more unsettled. And Myra was also by de- 
 grees learning to discipline herself; not indeed upon any 
 recognised principle, or because she was told or taught that 
 she ought to do so ; but from that impulse of conscientious- 
 ness which doubtless is, however we may fail to perceive it, 
 the working of God's Spirit. The higher principles which 
 had been awakened in her heart by Mrs. Patty's conversation 
 during her short illness, had not been suffered to evaporate in 
 mere sentiment. Action was a necessity of Myra's nature, 
 and thus the feeling of religion embodied itself in prayer, 
 and prayer settled itself into a regular habit at stated times. 
 Myra had not learnt to be afraid of forms. She had never 
 felt that there could be any danger in them. What she 
 needed was something definite to mark her day — and so to 
 satisfy her conscience that she was dedicating it to God. It 
 might not have been the highest motive for prayer, and the 
 petition when offered might have been less earnest than the 
 spontaneous outpouring of a heart touched by some sudden 
 emotion ; but the habit was a support, a reminder ; it recalled 
 her when she had been going wrong, it spurred her on when 
 she desired to do right ; and who could venture to doubt that 
 God's blessing would be vouchsafed upon such an effort to 
 realise His presence, and live in constant remembrance of His 
 laws ? These noon-day prayers, as Myra called them, though 
 in fact they were often from circumstances delayed to a later 
 hour, were gradually becoming a necessary part of her inward 
 life. She felt their blessing especially on this day ; indeed, 
 she was always especially soothed by them after a morning 
 spent with Mr. Verney. For she could not help being in- 
 fluenced by him, still less could she avoid being excited by 
 the interest which he so evidently took in her. The readings 
 and conversations with him were looked forward to as the
 
 no A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 greatest pleasures which just then were granted her, but when 
 they were over Myra was never thoroughly satisfied either with 
 herself or with him. He roused her vanity. She found herself 
 singled out by one whom every one was admiring j petted and 
 brought forward in a way which, though at times it jarred upon 
 her morbid sensitiveness, was still very soothing to her self- 
 love, and to that latent consciousness of mental power which 
 had been her perplexity from childhood. And, in consequence, 
 she was always trying to please him. He sometimes joined in 
 the laugh at her untidiness, or was gently satirical upon her 
 efforts after fashion ; and Myra, who before had scoffed at him, 
 now spent many half hours before the looking-glass, trying to 
 arrange her hair neatly, and to twist into shape a collar which 
 was never made to fit ; and the unsuccessful effort (for it almost 
 always was unsuccessful) left her in a state of despairing self- 
 consciousness which was not to be endured. An easy mode 
 of escaping from it, indeed, was by remembering some of Mr. 
 Verney's pleasant little speeches, — the remarks which proved 
 that he did think her worth more than his cousin Elise ; but 
 that was a very petty satisfaction, utterly destructive of simpli- 
 city, and if ever Myra gave way to it, she hated herself more 
 than ever. 
 
 It was a relief not to be told in words to turn from all this 
 introspection, this imagination of a human eye, controlling and 
 criticising, and lose the thought of self in the presence of Him 
 to whom all hearts are known. Very simple minds would 
 scarcely understand the fulness of such a rest. To Myra, 
 the mere attitude of kneeling brought quietness and reality. 
 After those few moments of prayer, and the clear unshrink- 
 ing view of duty which accompanied them, the little world in 
 which she lived appeared in a new light. Mr. Verney's 
 opinion ceased to be of consequence, and praise or blame 
 were alike indifferent. With one aim before her, one hope 
 to cheer her, one joy to sustain her, Myra's eye became 
 single ; and the complex, bewildered, self-conscious mind 
 grasped, for the instant, that priceless treasure of simplicity 
 which is so often supposed to be unattainable, save on those 
 by whom God has been pleased to bestow it at their birth.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 1 1 1 
 
 And it was then that Myra fancied herself better able to 
 understand Mr. Verney's character. Respect him thoroughly 
 she did not. He was far removed from any standard of good- 
 ness which she had ever set up. He agreed with no hero of 
 her imagination, either ancient or modern ; and Myra was too 
 much of a child in all her feelings and thoughts to idealise and 
 fall in love with him. She only desired to see him truly, and 
 to explain to her own satisfaction what there was in him which 
 puzzled her. She could not call him a careless man of the 
 world, without principle, because he had such an appreciation 
 of all things high and noble. Still less could she look upon 
 him as an earnestly religious man. He ignored the duty of 
 going to church, except on very rare occasions, and seemed 
 to consider Christians, Mahometans, and Hindoos, as very 
 much upon an equality, except as regarded civilisation. Yet 
 he shared Myra's delight in the poetical passages of Jeremy 
 Taylor, expressed all due reverence for Hooker, and what was 
 still more astonishing, raved about the beauty of Isaiah's pro- 
 phecies, sighed over the book of Ecclesiastes, and acknowledged 
 that the sublimity of simple pathos had been attained in the 
 Gospels. What did it all mean ? 
 
 Myra was so true herself that she could with difficulty believe 
 in untruthfulness or unreality in others. People must be either 
 good or bad, in earnest or not in earnest ; such was her theory, 
 though it was perpetually meeting with exceptions which startled 
 her. Certainly she had inconsistency enough in her own 
 character, but then she looked upon herself only as a child, 
 and failed to perceive that in this respect the majority of the 
 world are children all their days. As to Mr. Verney, he 
 was a man, a very clever man, extremely kind to her, and 
 sympathising more than any one she had yet seen with her 
 peculiar tastes. It was impossible to put him into the category 
 of the false-hearted and careless ; and Myra at length, after 
 much thought, found a place for him apart. 
 
 He was, she felt sure, a disappointed man, one who had 
 endured great trials, but was very reserved in talking about 
 them. He felt much more than he expressed, because he 
 detested anything like show. His admiration of the Bible
 
 112 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 proved he was religious, and his singular neglect of outward 
 forms must be the result of his long residence in India, in a 
 very trying climate, and at a distance from a church. But 
 he would soon come round after he had lived some time in 
 England • and in the meantime it was much more really true 
 and right not to make any pretence, not to do things for 
 mere show. 
 
 And so Myra indulged her dreams of Mr. Verney, and if she 
 could not quite put him on a level with Dr. Kingsbury, found 
 a place for him in the prayers which she offered for those who 
 were her best friends. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Rosamond's visit to London was fixed for the twelfth of May. 
 The Verneys had gone up on the fourth, and were impatient 
 for her to join them. Myra felt that the prospect before her 
 was a blank one. She was scarcely aware how much Mr. 
 Verney would be missed until she looked forward to his absence. 
 But as yet he lingered at Stormont, though left in the house 
 alone, and without the society of gentlemen at the Hall ; for 
 Godfrey Cameron had returned to his work in London, and 
 Edmund avoided rather than sought his company. Something 
 in the two minds was antagonistic, and this was a vexation to 
 Myra, who was very fond of her youngest brother, and always 
 liked him to approve her choice of friends. His evident dis- 
 taste to Mr. Verney would have seemed like a reproach to her 
 own judgment, if she had not been upheld in her opinion by 
 the rest of her family. But Mrs. Cameron was really mournful 
 over the breaking up of their pleasant mornings ; and Mr. 
 Cameron, provokingly cautious though he generally was, gave 
 it out as an oracular decision that Charles Verney might be a 
 leading man in India or in any country if he would only take 
 the trouble to exert himself. 
 
 The day previous to Rosamond's departure was naturally
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 113 
 
 an unsettled one. The schoolroom was in confusion, under- 
 going the ordeal of a search for all articles missing or possibly 
 to be wanted. Rosamond in her very quiet way upset every 
 ordinary arrangement at her will, and though poor Miss 
 Greaves, when she found history, French, German, and geo- 
 graphy alike disregarded, looked despair, she never ventured 
 to utter it. Myra was conscious of great irritability, as Rosa- 
 mond dregged her from drawer to drawer, or sent her from 
 room to room, to look for things which common sense would 
 have told musjt be of very little use even if found. She would 
 have rebelled, but Rosamond was accustomed to be waited 
 upon, and was so prettily and pleasantly grateful for the trouble 
 she gave that there was no excuse for being out of humour, or 
 disobedient to her gentle tyranny. She and Myra were looking 
 over a portfolio of drawings ; some were to be taken to London 
 to be mounted and framed, and others — Rosamond did not 
 exactly state why she thought it necessary to burden herself 
 with them, but Juliet said for her that it was satisfactory to 
 have something with which to make a show. 
 
 ' You have put aside this one by mistake, Rosamond,' said 
 Myra, pointing to the drawing of the Bridge of St. Martin, 
 which had been begun by Annette. 
 
 ' Oh no ! I accept it as mine now,' replied Rosamond 
 carelessly : ' it makes up the set, and it has done its duty in 
 the schoolroom.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' observed Juliet sharply ; ' it has done 
 no duty ; it made Mr. Brownlow think Annette could draw 
 much better than she could, and it gained her a great scolding 
 the other day.' 
 
 ' My dear child, how you exaggerate ! Gained Annette a 
 scolding ; how could that be ? ' 
 
 ' But it did, Rosamond,' exclaimed Annette, coming forward, 
 and speaking in an injured tone. ' You know you have been 
 so busy lately you have not been able to help me at all, and so 
 Mr. Brownlow is quite disappointed, and there is no hope of 
 my having his sketch for a prize now.' 
 
 ' Poor darling ! that is grievous,' said Rosamond, still turn- 
 ing over the drawings. 
 
 H
 
 114 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 1 There would have been no disappointment if you had told 
 the truth at first, Annette/ said Myra gravely. 
 
 Annette's face flushed. ' Told truth, Myra ! do you mean 
 that I told a falsehood ? I declare, it is the most unjust — it is 
 cruel — dreadful — so very unkind ! ' 
 
 Rosamond laid her hand on her sister's shoulder, ' Hush ! 
 hush ! my dear ! It shall all come right, and you shall have 
 a much prettier drawing than Mr. Brownlow's when I come 
 back from London. Myra, why do you always make " Much 
 ado about nothing ? " ' 
 
 ' I said what I thought/ replied Myra. 
 
 ' And that is just what you ought not to do. What would 
 become of us all if we said what we thought — if we were com- 
 pelled to live in the Palace of Truth ? ' 
 
 ' I wish with all my heart we could live there/ exclaimed 
 Juliet. 'There is nothing I should like better than to put 
 some people I know there.' 
 
 ' But it has been tried, dear child, and failed/ said Rosa- 
 mond. ' You remember Madame de Genlis' tale ? An- 
 nette, will you be so very kind as to run up to my room and 
 bring me down the green portfolio. You will find it behind 
 the arm-chair. I can put up the drawings then, and we shall 
 have finished the business.' 
 
 Annette obeyed. Myra remained deep in thought. Pre- 
 sently she said earnestly, ' I should like to have my mind set 
 right about truth. There seems to me a difference between 
 saying all one thinks, and saying what one does not think. 
 Perhaps I was wrong about Annette and the drawing.' 
 
 'Perhaps you were, my dear; very likely — I may say; but 
 we won't talk any more about it.' 
 
 'We can't,' said Juliet, 'here is Mr. Verney ; ' and just then 
 Mr. Verney appeared at the half-open window. He began 
 with an apology. ' Am I very intrusive ? I could find no one 
 in the drawing-room, and Mrs. Cameron is not in the boudoir, 
 and I thought I might just be allowed to leave a message in 
 the schoolroom ; but I had no idea of interrupting so much 
 business.' 
 
 ' Pray, come in.' Rosamond threw up the window, which
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 115 
 
 opened from the ground, and Mr. Verney entered. The 
 drawings, which the moment before were about to be shut 
 up in the portfolio, were now left open, and Mr. Verney was 
 required to give his opinion as to the best mode of packing 
 them. This led to an inspection of them, and the view from 
 the Bridge of St. Martin was particularly admired. Rosamond 
 had never been abroad, and Mr. Verney became interested, and 
 as much excited as was possible for him, as he described the 
 scenery of Chamouni and Mont Blanc. 
 
 Myra sat by, silent, and evidently not listening, as was her 
 wont. Mr. Verney's quick eye remarked this, and he turned 
 to her and asked what was the matter. 
 
 The short answer, ' Nothing, thank you, only I was wishing 
 to understand something,' made every one laugh j and then 
 poor Myra blushed, and felt that she had been very foolish, 
 and not quite simple. When persons are thinking of anything 
 which is really interesting to them, they are not so willing to 
 let those about them know it. She was punished now, for no 
 inquiry was made as to the subject of her cogitations, and Mr. 
 Verney continued to give his attention to Rosamond and the 
 drawings. Perhaps it was a little latent ill-humour which 
 induced Myra to watch them so much and so critically. When 
 we are vexed with ourselves, it is a relief to vent our vexation 
 upon others. Mr. Verney was very agreeable in his informa- 
 tion, and Rosamond very sensible in her questions, but Myra 
 would have liked better to listen if they had talked as they 
 generally did — lightly. It seemed unnatural to hear them say 
 anything really in earnest, and she could have almost accused 
 them of pretence, until suddenly a thought struck her, which 
 as it flashed across her mind, cleared away a whole mist of 
 perplexity : Mr. Verney and Rosamond were falling, or had 
 fallen in love with each other. That was the reason why 
 Mr. Verney lingered at the Hall, and why Rosamond was so 
 charmed to go to London. 
 
 In one moment Myra was in the very centre of a romancej 
 almost as exciting as if she had been the heroine herself. 
 Yes, it was all true. All that she had heard and read of, 
 and only half-believed in, was being acted before her. There
 
 Il6 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 could ba no mistake. Rosamond was so much more shy with 
 Mr. Verney than with any one else, and he was always watch- 
 ing her, though he talked but little to her. That was quite the 
 right way of falling in love, and now Rosamond was showing 
 herself to the best advantage, and Mr. Verney was drawing 
 her out as he would draw any one out, and so they must under- 
 stand each other better and better. 
 
 Mr. Verney was rather old, to be sure; but then he was 
 infinitely more clever and pleasant than any young man she 
 had ever seen, and Rosamond was quite of an age to be 
 married. Myra did not exactly feel that she should like to 
 marry Mr. Verney herself, she should be so much afraid of 
 him, but as a brother he would be delightful. 
 
 In the excitement of her satisfaction at this, the first dis- 
 covery she had ever made, or supposed she had made, in the 
 great romance of life, Myra found herself compelled to rush 
 away and calm herself by a solitary walk on the terrace, and 
 on the way she encountered Mrs. Patty. 
 
 A rather hurried step and a quick utterance betokened 
 some mental disturbance, as the question was suddenly 
 put : ' My dear, are you sure your papa will be at home 
 this evening? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, quite sure; at least I think so. No one has heard 
 the contrary that I know of: shall I go and ask mamma?' 
 
 ' No, my dear, thank you; I can ask myself, if you are in 
 doubt.' 
 
 1 1 don't think I am in doubt. I am nearly sure I am not.' 
 Myra spoke as though certainty upon any point was at that 
 instant unattainable, and so, in her preoccupied state of mind, 
 it was. Her manner tried Mrs. Patty's patience, and she said 
 rather sharply, ' My dear, you will never get through the world 
 if you can't tell "yes" from "no" better than that. What 
 has happened to you this morning ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing — nothing at all. I was only going to walk up 
 and down the terrace. Indeed, Mrs. Patty,' and Myra's brain 
 became rather more clear, and her manner more collected, as 
 she saw her friend's eyes fixed upon her inquiringly, ' Indeed, 
 there is nothing the matter ; it is all quite natural.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 117 
 
 ' I don't understand what you mean by quite natural, my 
 dear. Is Miss Greaves in the schoolroom?' 
 
 ' No. She went home early, because lessons were rather 
 irregular to-day. You know Rosamond is packing ; at least, 
 she was packing till Mr. Verney came.' Myra, as she said 
 this, looked painfully conscious, for she felt as if she was be- 
 traying a secret. And perhaps she was awakening a suspicion, 
 for Mrs. Patty said, shortly, ' Has Mr. Verney been here all 
 the morning, then ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no ; only a little while. He came to leave a message, 
 and then he stayed.' 
 
 'As he always stays,' murmured Mrs. Patty. 
 
 Myra read in Mrs. Patty's open face a confirmation of her 
 own thoughts. The temptation to speak freely was too great 
 to be resisted, and she exclaimed, ' O Mrs. Patty ! do you 
 think they will be married ? ' 
 
 ' Married ! ' and there was a pause. ' My dear, don't trouble 
 yourself about such things. If they come into your head, turn 
 them out. They are not your affair.' 
 
 ' But may I talk to you ? will you come out on the terrace 
 with me ? I should just like to say what I think to some one,' 
 said Myra. 
 
 Mrs. Patty assented in action, though she was silent, till 
 they reached the terrace; then she said, ' Myra, who put that 
 fancy into your head ? ' 
 
 'No one,' replied Myra. 'It came of its own accord, but 
 I am sure it is true.' 
 
 ■ Then, my dear, you will do well to talk it out to your 
 mamma, but to no one else. I would rather not hear about 
 it.' 
 
 'But, dear Mrs. Patty, you know I can't say anything 
 to mamma ; she might be angry : and there may be nothing 
 in it ; only I am sure of it, and so would you be if I might 
 only talk to you about it.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty was sorely perplexed. She had very strict 
 notions upon many subjects, more especially upon the con- 
 fidence which ought to exist between mothers and daughters, 
 and the idea of discussing with Myra, unknown to Mrs.
 
 ri8 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Cameron, the probability of such an event as Rosamond's 
 marriage, was opposed both to her lady-like sense of fitness, 
 and her Christian sense of duty. The reply to Myra's remark 
 was discouraging : ' My dear, I don't like gossip, and the 
 Doctor doesn't approve of it.' 
 
 ' But is it gossip to talk about one's family ? I thought 
 gossip only concerned other persons! ' 
 
 ' I never looked for the meaning in the dictionary,' replied 
 Mrs. Patty ; ' but it strikes me that any such talk about things 
 which don't concern one must be gossip.' 
 
 ' And must I never be free — never say anything ? Must I 
 be shut up all my life ? ' exclaimed Myra fretfully. 
 
 ' My dear, I am not quite the person to give an opinion, 
 because I often say things myself which I ought not. But 
 the Doctor declares that the first thing we should all learn, 
 men and women both, is to hold our tongues ; especially about 
 this little matter of falling in love.' 
 
 'But it is not a little matter. It is the great thing in life,' 
 said Myra. 
 
 4 All the more reason for being careful what we say about 
 it.' 
 
 ' Only we must talk of it,' persisted Myra, ' because it comes 
 before us, and we can't help seeing it.' 
 
 ' We can't help fancying we see it. But, my dear, when 
 you have lived as long as I have, you will understand that 
 it is one of those matters about which lookers-on are very apt 
 to blunder. Half the people whom I thought were going 
 to marry, have turned round at last and taken to somebody 
 else.' 
 
 ' So people don't marry those they fall in love with,' said 
 Myra. 'But' — and she thought for an instant — 'they do 
 generally in books.' 
 
 ' That is, I suppose, my dear, because the book would not 
 be liked if they did not. But books and life are different.' 
 
 ' Then Rosamond won't marry Mr. Verney, and it will be 
 what is called a hopeless attachment,' said Myra, in a tone of 
 sorrowful satisfaction. 
 
 ' It will be what God chooses it to be, my dear ; what is best
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 119 
 
 fitted for them both for their trial ; since, anyhow, you know, 
 Myra, marriage must be a trial.' 
 
 ' Must it ? ' said Myra ; ' I thought it was a blessing.' 
 
 ' Surely, a blessing, but a trial too. All blessings are trials. 
 They show what we are by the way in which we take them.' 
 
 ' Yes, trials in that way,' observed Myra. ' But when a 
 woman is married she is less responsible than when she is 
 not married, because she has only to obey her husband ; and, 
 Mrs. Patty, that was what I thought about Rosamond, that she 
 would have nothing to do but to follow Mr. Verney's advice, 
 and that then she would be quite sure always to do right.' 
 
 ' I am not so clear upon that point, my dear. I should like 
 to know more of Mr. Verney before I quite decided that his 
 advice would always be right. It might be ; but then again, 
 it might not. And, after all, though a woman is a wife, she 
 has a soul of her own, and will be judged according to her 
 own knowledge and conscience. No one can get rid of that 
 responsibility.' 
 
 'At all events, Rosamond would find it easy to obey,' said 
 Myra, 'for every one must feel obliged to obey Mr. Verney. 
 That is what I should like, Mrs. Patty. I should hate to have 
 a husband who was not determined to have his own way.' 
 
 ' Very good, my dear. But first take care that his way is a 
 right way.' 
 
 ' I should find that out before I was married,' said Myra. 
 ' I could never marry any man whom I did not respect more 
 than any one else in all the world.' 
 
 ' Quite right, my dear, but that is not the way of the world ; 
 at least, if one may judge by the way the young ladies go on in 
 the present day. They can't respect the men they flirt with.' 
 
 ' I don't think I quite understand what flirting is,' said Myra. 
 ' I mean, I couldn't describe it.' 
 
 ' But you can feel it fast enough, my dear,' said Mrs. Patty. 
 ' It is a thing much better felt than described. When you see 
 a young lady chattering and smiling in a way which makes you 
 long to take hold of her and shut her up in a dark closet, you 
 may be quite sure that is flirting.' 
 
 ' But gentlemen flirt too, don't they ? ' said Myra.
 
 120 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' Certainly. But they can't unless women encourage them. 
 Remember, Myra, if you ever find even the tone of a man's 
 voice freer than is pleasant to you, you may be tolerably sure 
 you have yourself to thank for it.' 
 
 ' But it must be very difficult to keep such a watch over 
 oneself,' said Myra, 'when one is in high spirits, and pretty, and 
 admired, like Rosamond.' 
 
 ' No doubt it is, my dear. And as I never was pretty and 
 admired, I never had the temptations which many have, and 
 so I have no right to condemn them. Indeed, I very often take 
 myself to task for 'feeling as I do about flirting, but I can't be 
 patient with it. It is something which gives me a kind of 
 creeping shudder of distaste. I don't say it is right to feel it. 
 We are all human, and very vain and weak, and it is a long 
 time since I was a girl. I daresay I flirted in my way then, 
 only I have forgotten.' 
 
 ' But people need not flirt when they fall in love,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Certainly not, my dear. Falling in love is the reality, and 
 flirting is the sham ; that is why it is so hateful.' 
 
 'Perhaps Rosamond is flirting,' said Myra thoughtfully; 
 'but then' — she paused for a moment — 'Mr. Verney would 
 not flirt.' 
 
 ' Time will show, my dear. Anyhow, I don't want you to 
 trouble your little head about it.' 
 
 And that was all the interest or sympathy which Myra could 
 get from Mrs. Patty, and rather hard it seemed, especially as 
 the few observations which had been made tended considerably 
 to withdraw the veil of romance which she had been prepared 
 to throw over her sister and Mr. Verney. Flirting could under 
 no circumstances be romantic or exciting. Little as Myra 
 knew about it, her womanly instinct told her that it was a 
 low, selfish, cold-hearted amusement, utterly destructive of 
 every high and noble feeling. The suspicion of blame, how- 
 ever, rested entirely on Rosamond. Mr. Verney was, in 
 Myra's eyes, far removed as a saint from any such possibility. 
 Perhaps he was really attached to Rosamond, and perhaps she 
 was trifling with him. That was another phase of the romance 
 of love of which she had read. One thing was clear — for Mrs.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 121 
 
 Patty had betrayed it in spite ef her caution — Myra had a 
 foundation for her suspicions, and she felt herself suddenly 
 grown older, as she saw herself thus brought face to face with 
 a possibility which up to this time she had been taught to con- 
 sider lying in the distant future. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Mr. CAMERON believed himself very exact in keeping his 
 engagements. He had his chambers in London, and often 
 slept there ; but he always took care to give his wife notice 
 when he intended to do so. He rejoiced in telegraphic de- 
 spatches ; there was an importance about them, and a freedom 
 from any plebeian regard for money, which suited his dignity. 
 But they kept his family in a continual ferment. Mrs. Cameron 
 never knew till the last London train had arrived whether the 
 alarming official document, containing the laconic announce- 
 ment ' I sleep in London,' might not be put into her hands, 
 bringing to her, in spite of long habit, visions of sudden illness, 
 and railway accidents, and all their train of horrors. 
 
 It was in vain, therefore, for Mrs. Patty to ask for any 
 certain intelligence of Mr. Cameron's movements, and to 
 confess the truth, she knew this quite well; but the peculiar 
 habit of mind, which made her always look forward, and settle 
 what was to be done, so, as she said, not to neglect anything, 
 was too strong for her mental conviction, and like many over- 
 scrupulous persons, she often wasted valuable moments in 
 endeavouring to make that assurance ' doubly sure,' which in 
 reality could not be sure at all. Twice that day she stopped 
 at the Hall, on her way to and from the village, to inquire 
 whether any message had been received from Mr. Cameron — 
 whether it was quite certain that he would be at home to 
 dinner; and each time, being told that he was expected, left a 
 message that she would come up in the evening to talk to him
 
 122 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 about a little business. Probably Mr. Cameron was not par- 
 ticularly well pleased with the announcement, when he thought 
 that his day's toil was over, but he made no comment upon it 
 when it was communicated to him by his wife. His face had 
 a preoccupied expression, and after a moment's silence, he 
 said, ' You have arranged, I believe, for Rosamond's visit 
 to-morrow ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; that is, if you quite approve. I believe I did right ; 
 you said that she might go up with you.' 
 
 ' She can't ; I have an engagement out of town to-morrow. 
 I shall not be there till evening; then I shall sleep there.' 
 
 ' Oh ! that changes everything. What would you wish to 
 have done ? ' 
 
 ' What would you wish, my dear ? These are matters for 
 a lady's arrangement.' 
 
 ' Conyers might go up with her ; or — I think Mr. Verney 
 is going ; he might take care of her for such a short way.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron's face darkened. ' Cordelia ! you forget the 
 opinion of the world. I will not have my daughter travelling 
 about with Mr. Verney.' 
 
 ' Certainly not, my dear Mr. Cameron. (Mrs. Cameron had 
 never reached the familiarity of a Christian name.) Anything 
 you wish ; but it is such a very little distance, I thought ' 
 
 1 My dear Cordelia, you think in the wrong place. When 
 thinking would be of some use, you act without it ; when it 
 can be of no use, you perplex yourself with it. I do not choose 
 that Rosamond should go up to London with Mr. Verney.' 
 
 ' Of course, it will be just as you wish,' was the reply. 
 
 'It must be just as I wish for the future, though it has not 
 been for the past. Rosamond ought never to have been allowed 
 to go to the Verneys.' 
 
 Poor Mrs. Cameron ! It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen 
 at her feet. Why, the visit had been proposed, and discussed, 
 and settled, all with her husband's consent. She would never 
 have thought of it if he had objected. But some error had 
 been committed, it was evident, and the masculine character 
 was not to be called upon to bear the burden of that imputa- 
 tion.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 123 
 
 ' It ought never to have been,' continued Mr. Cameron ; 
 * Rosamond is too young to go into society without some one 
 to watch her.' 
 
 'But I am so unwell, my dear Mr. Cameron, I can't bear 
 late hours ; and Mr. Verney is such an old friend, and so very 
 fond of Rosamond. Indeed, if you remember ' 
 
 ' My dear, I can remember nothing, except that you have 
 been guilty of a blunder, and that all we can do is to make the 
 best of it. Why don't they send up dinner ? ' 
 
 Mr. Cameron rang the bell ; desired that the cook should 
 be told that dinner was ten minutes behind time ; declined to 
 hear any explanation as to the difference of clocks, and walked 
 out of the room. His wife was left in a state of nervous worry, 
 which exhibited itself in a tone of voice so plaintive that Mr. 
 Cameron, after bearing with it as well as he could until dessert 
 was placed on the table, put an end to it, when the servants 
 were gone, by saying, patronisingly, ' My dear Cordelia, you 
 have good intentions — most women have ; I give you every 
 credit for them.' And Mrs. Cameron sighed, and smiled, and 
 sighed, and was ' herself again.' 
 
 But not so Mr. Cameron. Mrs. Patty perceived this when, 
 on her arrival at the Hall after dinner, she was ushered into 
 the library, and found him ready for the proposed business 
 interview — ready, at least, so far as a seat in an arm-chair, and 
 a paper-knife held in his hand, to be rapped gently when he 
 grew impatient, could make him so. But not at all ready if 
 any judgment could be formed from his face, for his cold grey 
 eyes looked out from under their dark eyelashes with a glance 
 which was all the more alarming to Mrs. Patty, because the 
 irritability it betrayed was otherwise so outwardly con- 
 trolled. 
 
 But Mrs. Patty was bold as a lion when she had to ask for 
 another ; and she began without apology or preface : ' Mr. 
 Cameron, I promised Miss Medley I would come and talk to 
 rou about a little business. She is too nervous to come herself; 
 and I said — indeed, I was sure you would feel for her as a 
 neighbour. As the Doctor says, it is a great bond, living in 
 one parish.'
 
 124 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' The good Doctor says what is very true ; may I ask what 
 the business is ? ' 
 
 'It is a puzzling business. I don't know that I can make 
 it quite clear. I am not so young as I was, Mr. Cameron ; 
 and my memory is not like yours.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron bowed, and merely repeated in a questioning 
 tone : ' And the business ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, the business ; let me see. You know, Mr. Cameron, 
 that Miss Medley has a nephew in India?' 
 
 ' I believe I have heard so.' 
 
 ' Oh ! but you must know. Her nephew ; the one she 
 brought up ; the last of her sister's family, for whom she 
 sacrificed so much. He went to India just when she came 
 to live at Yare.' 
 
 ' Yes, I recall the circumstances now,' said Mr. Cameron. 
 
 ' He has had more than half her money spent upon him, in 
 one way and another,' continued Mrs. Patty. ' She spoilt him, 
 no doubt • and ' 
 
 ' He has been in India ever since, I believe,' politely inter- 
 rupted Mr. Cameron. 
 
 ' Yes, for five-and-twenty years. He is a widower, and has 
 one daughter, who was educated in England ; but he always 
 kept her away from his aunt, because she was not grand enough 
 for him. He is ungrateful, Mr. Cameron ; he cares for nothing 
 but himself.' 
 
 'And he is coming home?' inquired Mr. Cameron. 
 
 'Not yet; nothing is fixed. In fact, my belief is that he 
 can't afford it ; he has lived in such style. His daughter, Char- 
 lotte, has been indulged like a princess. They say she is very 
 beautiful.' 
 
 ' And you wish to have my advice about this young lady ? ' 
 inquired Mr. Cameron, as he gently tapped the paper-knife. 
 
 ' No, not about the young lady, but about her papa. Gentle- 
 men are more difficult to deal with than young ladies, Mr. 
 Cameron ; at least, poor Miss Medley finds it so. Mr. Stuart, 
 I fear, may be an extravagant man.' 
 
 ' Perhaps what the gentleman is, will be found to be of more 
 consequence on the present occasion, than what Mrs. Patty
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 125 
 
 Kingsbury fears lie may be,' observed Mr Cameron in a tone 
 which passed like a cold blast over Mrs. Patty's nerves, but 
 which had the desired effect of bringing her to the point. 
 
 'You want me to ask my question at once, Mr. Cameron ; 
 but if I do, I shall have to go back afterwards. Mr. Stuart 
 wants Miss Medley to lend him some more money.' 
 
 ' Precisely.' 
 
 1 But that is not the whole. I shall have a difficulty in ex- 
 plaining, because I don't know everything myself.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron stood up : 'Excuse me, my good Mrs. Patty, 
 but if I am to give an opinion, do me the favour to refer me to 
 some one who does know everything.' 
 
 ' But I can't, Mr. Cameron ; Miss Medley will not tell me. 
 But the question of security is what I wish to know about — 
 what the Doctor wishes, rather. I told him what Miss Medley 
 told me, and he could not understand ' 
 
 ' Indeed! ' 
 
 ' But he said vou might ; and so I came. This is what the 
 Doctor wrote down about it. He is not at all well to-day ; but 
 he took a great deal of trouble to make it clear, for he is 
 very anxious that Miss Medley should not be led into diffi- 
 culties.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron took the paper which Mrs. Patty held out to 
 him with an inclination of the head, all the more courteous, 
 because he allowed himself, at the same moment, to toss the 
 paper-knife on the table. 
 
 In the solemn silence which ensued, Mrs. Patty might have 
 heard the beating of her own heart, but for the ticking of Mr. 
 Cameron's admirable time-piece, never known — or, which did 
 just as well, never acknowledged — to lose or gain in the course 
 of the year. 
 
 Mr. Cameron read through the paper carefully twice ; then, 
 laying it on the table, said : ' Dr. Kingsbury asks a difficult 
 question, requiring a careful legal answer.' 
 
 ' No doubt,' replied Mrs. Patty ; ' because, you see, Mr. 
 Cameron, if the question was not about law, he would most 
 likely have been able to answer it himself.' 
 
 ' Exactly so ; I think it may be better for me to reply to it
 
 126 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 in writing. Messages, Mrs. Patty, are apt to create, rather 
 than to lessen a difficulty.' 
 
 ' Very true ; especially when they are sent by a person who 
 has a bad memory.' 
 
 ' May I venture, then, to detain you whilst I write a note ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! I can wait just as long as you like ; but the Doctor 
 said I might ask you one more favour, in order to carry back 
 a little comfort to poor Miss Medley. She is very anxious to 
 see some one who understands law matters ; and she thinks, 
 that if you would kindly undertake to hear all she has to say, 
 you might not only give an opinion as to the security, but help 
 her to see her way as to some other points. The fact is, Mr. 
 Cameron— I don't wish it to go farther — but the Doctor thinks, 
 from what I tell him, that the poor thing is being worried out 
 of any sense she ever possessed ; and I never could think that 
 much since I found her so bewitched with the globules. Still, 
 talking is a comfort to her ; and, if you could see her, you 
 might get more out of her than any one else.' 
 
 ' Dr. Kingsbury refers to this wish in his note,' said Mr. 
 Cameron. 
 
 ' Yes, he told me he should ask you. The Doctor would 
 see her himself if he were able, but he has symptoms of gout 
 again, and even if he could go, he says he should not have the 
 same influence. The doctor is very good at a sermon, as every 
 one knows' (Mr. Cameron bowed assent), 'but there is a 
 difference, at least so he thinks, between that and law — though 
 as I tell him, if people would listen to sermons, they would not 
 go to law.' 
 
 1 Most true ; and if people would listen to law, they would 
 not talk so much nonsense in sermons, Mrs. Patty;' and Mr. 
 Cameron relaxed into a smile. ' But that is beside the point. 
 If you and Dr. Kingsbury really believe that a visit from me 
 would be any comfort to the unhappy lady, it would of course 
 be my duty to go to her.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty looked and felt as though she had gained a 
 triumph, and she was right. Her simple kind-heartedness had 
 without any direct intention touched Mr. Cameron upon a 
 vulnerabe point. He liked to be consulted ; he desired espe-
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 127 
 
 cially to be the general referee in his own parish j and he was 
 by no means insensible to the wants of his fellow-creatures, 
 whether moral or physical. The old nursery rhyme — 
 
 'Of all my mother's children I love myself the best, 
 And when I am provided for, I care not for the rest' — 
 
 was true of him, as it is of a vast majority of persons, only so 
 far as regarded the statement in the first line. 
 
 He wrote his note to Dr. Kingsbury, and then wished Mrs. 
 Patty a really cordial good-bye, feeling that for once she had 
 assisted him to recover the stately equanimity which alone 
 befitted him. In the contemplation of his importance and 
 usefulness, he was able to forget the stupid piece of gossip, 
 overheard accidentally at the railway station, which had coupled 
 Rosamond's name with Mr. Verney's, and asserted that she 
 must be engaged to him, because she was going to stay with 
 the Verneys in London. Mr. Cameron despised such reports ; 
 he knew there was nothing in them ; they were but the rumour 
 of a day, and would be forgotten to-morrow ; and the idea was 
 an absurdity. But still it irritated him. What business had 
 people to talk of him or his family ? It was so impertinent ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 It was the same evening. The church-clock had just struck 
 half-past seven, and the chilliness which lingers in the air, even 
 in the month of May, was enough to serve as an excuse to 
 fidgety invalids to light a little lire, and make a comfortable 
 semblance of winter. Mrs. Haynes had persuaded Miss 
 Medley to have a fire. ' It was good for company,' she said, 
 4 as well as for warmth.' And the advice was taken, though not 
 without evident compunctions of conscience on Miss Medley's 
 part, and many expressions of self-reproach for such extrava- 
 gance, ' Especially now, when it was right — when it was neces- 
 sary — when indeed, if Mrs. Haynes did but know, she might
 
 128 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. , 
 
 say very differently. But it was cold, no doubt ; people could 
 not live without warmth ; it was part of the principle of life, 
 so Dr. Medley had often said. Caloric was a vital necessity,' 
 &c. Mrs. Haynes cut short the scientific disquisition by put- 
 ting a lighted match to the scraps of brown paper and fragments 
 of damp sticks with which little Miss Haynes had filled the 
 grate that morning, and in a few seconds after Miss Medley 
 was in the middle of smoke, and its accompaniments — an open 
 window, breeze-blown curtains, and flickering candles : and 
 kneeling before the fire, forgot for the time her anxieties and 
 her sorrows, in the eager desire to fan dying sparks and make 
 green twigs catch. But that little excitement was over now. 
 
 o o 
 
 The fire was burning well if not brightly, and Miss Medley, 
 seated in the leathern arm-chair, was listening to the footsteps 
 which passed down the village street, whilst feeling too ner- 
 vously expectant to be able to attend to the piece of knitting 
 which, as a matter of course, had been made ready for the 
 evening's employment. 
 
 There came a quick rap at the street-door, and Miss Medley 
 seized her knitting, and as she tremblingly held the needles, 
 succeeded in letting down two stitches, and so preparing for 
 herself occupation both for mind and fingers in the work of tak- 
 ing them up again. That was a little help in the effort made to 
 overcome nervousness ; and in the slight delay which occurred 
 before the door was opened, and Mr. Verney announced, Miss 
 Medley was able so far to recover herself as to receive her 
 visitor with the politeness and somewhat of the cordiality due 
 to an intimate acquaintance. 
 
 Mr. Verney, on his part, was evidently quite at home ; at 
 least, so far as regarded making himself comfortable. He 
 merely said, ' Your fire is pleasant, though it is the month of 
 May ; ' and then he sat down in a low chair calling itself easy, 
 and stretched himself out in a languid self-indulgent posture, 
 only permissible in the presence of a friend. 
 
 < Yes, it is cold to-night,' was the reply ; ' that is, chilly ; 
 that is, for an invalid. I have been sadly good-for-nothing 
 to-day. Writing that long letter, yesterday, tired me a good 
 deal,'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 129 
 
 ' And you have sent it ? ' lie inquired. 
 
 ' No/ — there was some hesitation — ' I waited, and I thought 
 I might have something to add at the last moment, but I 
 ^wished to be ready for the mail, I have a great objection to 
 being hurried, Mr. Verney.' 
 
 ' So have a good many people,' replied Mr. Verney ; 'but if 
 you arc like me, Miss Medley, you will feel satisfied now that 
 the thing is done, and not vex yourself any further. Vexation 
 and worry try the nerves far more than hard work. May I be 
 permitted to stir your fire ? I know it is taking a liberty, for 
 we have not known each other seven years.' 
 
 ' It must be two years since George wrote me home word 
 that he had found a friend, who was likely to join him in a 
 successful speculation,' said Miss Medley. ' I little thought you 
 were that friend when we met the other night at the Colonel's. 
 George keeps his business very secret always.' 
 
 ' He was mistaken as to success,' said Mr. Verney, in a tone 
 of indifference. ' I suppose I have no right to complain, but 
 George Stuart is not a fortunate man. If I had known that 
 at the time, the wisdom of the serpent would have taught me 
 to avoid him.' 
 
 ' It might have been well if you had mutually avoided each 
 other, Mr. Verney,' said Miss Medley shortly ; and as she spoke 
 she had recourse to her knitting-needles, and worked them so 
 diligently that it would have appeared there was no desire to 
 continue the subject. Mr. Verney, however, was proof against 
 any such feminine mode of testifying disapprobation. He sat 
 silent for a few seconds, perhaps to humour his companion's 
 whim, and presently taking up a book, said, as he turned over 
 the pages — 
 
 1 1 will put that letter into the post for you, if you like. 
 There may be some mistake, otherwise, about the postage.' 
 
 No reply, but the knitting was evidently in inextricable con- 
 fusion. 
 
 ' Shall I take it for you ? ' was repeated. 
 
 ' Thank you, no ; I can send it myself.' And then Miss 
 Medley's candour got the better of her nervousness, and she 
 looked up at Mr. Verney — her little grey eyes glittering with 
 
 I
 
 r 3 o A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 excitement, and said : : I don't think — I don't mean — that is, 
 I feel it will be better — indeed, Mr. Verney, I have made up 
 my mind to consult Mr. Cameron.' 
 
 'Mr. Cameron!' an exclamation escaped Mr. Verney's lips* 
 which the next instant he repented. ' Excuse me, Miss Medley 
 but really this is too senseless. Consult that stiff buckram 
 fool ! I must call him a fool, let him be never so much your 
 friend. A man who knows no more about India than I do 
 about Kamtschatka ! Why, it is monstrous !' He started up, 
 and paced up and down the room. 
 
 Miss Medley sat silent, but trembling all over. 
 
 ' You have done it ! ' he exclaimed, stopping as if an idea 
 had struck him. ' This is only an excuse for telling me that 
 you have put my private affairs into the hands of a man with 
 whom I have no concern, and who, for aught I know, may do 
 me the greatest injury.' 
 
 ' Injury ! Oh no ; Mr. Cameron is incapable of that. And 
 your private affairs ! Mr. Verney, I should never mention your 
 name. I have given my word : you could never believe me 
 capable of such meanness.' 
 
 ' I believe what I see, and what I know, madam,' replied 
 Mr. Verney haughtily ; ' and since it is necessary, I must 
 again warn you that your young niece's happiness, your 
 nephew's prosperity — I say nothing of my own prospects — all 
 depend upon your keeping these family arrangements strictly 
 within our own knowledge.' 
 
 ' But the security ? ' said Miss Medley. ' Dr. Kingsbury 
 could give me no advice, but he warned me ' 
 
 ' Madam ! Dr. Kingsbury ! — ask his opinion ! Then let 
 the whole thing go. Good evening ! I beg pardon for having 
 intruded upon you.' He turned to the door, bent, as Miss 
 Medley supposed, upon taking his departure. But no one else 
 would have been so deceived. Mr. Verney had not the slightest 
 intention of going ; and when Miss Medley, in a feeble voice 
 of remonstrance and apology, entreated that he would allow 
 her to explain, he reseated himself, with a patronising and 
 forgiving air, which had the desired effect of entirely confirming 
 the poor lady's previous suspicions as to her own misdeeds.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 131 
 
 'I would only wish to say, Mr. Verney,' she began — 
 
 'Say anything you please, dear madam. I shall be only 
 too glad to find that I have been mistaken.' 
 
 ' But you arc not mistaken, Mr. Verney. Oh dear ! it 
 makes me very nervous ; and 1 have forgotten to take my 
 camomilla to-day ; and Mrs. Hayncs broke a bottle — but never 
 mind.' Mr. Verney had thrown himself back in his chair 
 with a slight groan. ' I have not mentioned you, Mr. Verney ; 
 I only spoke of George. 1 should never have done that, 
 but Mrs. Patty came in, and found me crying. I had been 
 thinking much of our last conversation ; you had been very 
 pressing.' 
 
 ' Pressing, solely with a view to your niece's happiness,' 
 interrupted Mr. Verney. 
 
 'Yes, poor Charlotte ! Though I have seen so little of her, 
 I am deeply attached to her. My poor misguided nephew's 
 only daughter. It would be grievous to have the engagement 
 broken off.' 
 
 ' As it must be, unless her father's affairs are soon satisfac- 
 torily settled,' observed Mr. Verney. ' I have already explained 
 how much I have done to save him from ruin ; and now, if 
 he should fail, I must all but fail too. At least, it would be 
 impossible for me to think of marriage. If the catastrophe 
 should come, it will be shipwreck for all. Put so let it be, if 
 so it is ordered.' The tone might have been that of a humble 
 saint. It completely subdued Miss Medley's heart, and her 
 tears flowed fast. 
 
 'Indeed, Mr. Verney, you do me injustice. Of course I 
 would help. Of course I would do everything in my power. 
 Relations have great claims, and George was quite like my 
 own child. Put supposing your plan for setting things right 
 should fail ? ' 
 
 ' My dear madam, it cannot. I feel for your anxiety, but 
 you must place confidence in me, and I tell you that it cannot • 
 a little ready money is all that is needed. However, if you 
 choose to doubt my word, you must. I have nothing more 
 to say, and I am not responsible for the consequences,' — 
 which evidently implied that Miss Medlev was ; and as is the
 
 132 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 case with many nervous middle-aged ladies, responsibility was 
 her bugbear. 
 
 ' Poor Charlotte ! ' she murmured to herself. 
 
 'Poor Charlotte, indeed!' echoed Mr. Verney; ' but your 
 pity for her will not be long needed, Miss Medley; she was a 
 mere shadow when I left India'- — a deep sigh accompanied 
 the words. 
 
 ' I am very sorry for you, Mr. Verney. I assure you I am, 
 though you won't believe it.' 
 
 ' I am bound to believe what a lady tells me,' was the 
 sarcastic answer; ' but your pity is even more wasted upon 
 me than upon your niece, Miss Medley. I have faced the 
 future as a man should face it, boldly. I am prepared for 
 my desolate life. And for her ' — and his voice slightly 
 faltered — ' sorrow will soon take her to her rest.' 
 
 * It is very sad, very dreadful ; if I only knew what to do ; 
 if 1 could only have another opinion about the security. But 
 you know, Mr. Verney, I have spent such sums upon my 
 nephew already.' 
 
 ' I know you have, my dear madam. I don't say a word in 
 his defence, only he is Charlotte's father.' 
 
 ' And you are quite certain it is safe ? ' 
 
 ' I am placing my own fortune in the same risk,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 ' And you don't think Mr. Cameron could give me a good 
 opinion ? ' 
 
 ' You may as well ask him about the affairs of the inhabit- 
 ants of the moon, if there are any. Mr. Cameron is an English 
 lawyer. India is a myth to him.' 
 
 ' And Charlotte and you would marry directly if the affairs 
 were put straight?' inquired Miss Medley. 
 
 ' We parted with that understanding.' 
 
 'Oh dear!' Miss Medley's sigh came from the very depths 
 of her heart. At that moment a knock was heard at the front- 
 door, and she started up. 
 
 ' James, from the Hall, ma'am, has brought a note, and 
 waits for an answer,' said Mrs. Haynes, allowing only her 
 head to be seen in the doorway.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 133 
 
 ' Come in. Tell James to wait.' 
 
 Mr. Vcrney took the note from Mrs. Haynes, and retained 
 it till she had retired. As he laid it before Miss Medley, he 
 remarked, carelessly, ' That stiff fool ! How like the writing 
 is to himself.' 
 
 The few lines were very easily deciphered. 
 
 ' Mr. Cameron will come and see me to-morrow,' exclaimed 
 Miss Medley. 
 
 ' As you will ; ' and Mr. Verney drew near the table. 'The 
 letters must go to-night if they are to be in time for the Indian 
 mail, and the post closes at half-past eight.' 
 
 ' But indeed you are mistaken. I always reckoned upon 
 sending the letter to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Then you must excuse me for saying you reckoned wrongly. 
 Just calculate, and you will see I am right.' 
 
 Mr. Verney had suggested an impossibility. Miss Medley 
 was far too nervous and confused to calculate anything. She 
 could but lean back in her chair, with Mr. Cameron's note held 
 in her trembling fingers, and say, ' Oh dear ! oh dear ! ' 
 
 'Is the answer ready, ma'am?' asked impatient Mrs. 
 Haynes, appearing again at the door. 
 
 ' In a moment — just wait a moment; or say I will send an 
 answer the first thing in the morning. O Mr. Verney! is it 
 quite necessary the letter should go to-night ? ' 
 
 'A quarter-past eight.' Mr. Verney took out his watch, 
 and held it in his hand. 
 
 'Oh dear! oh dear! You say it won't do to wait ? Not 
 if I pay extra ? ' 
 
 ' Sixteen minutes past eight, and it will take ten minutes to 
 walk to the post-office.' 
 
 Miss Medley opened her desk, and took out a letter, directed 
 but not closed. ' I am afraid I have promised too decidedly. 
 I might have given him hope enough to keep up his spirits, 
 and nothing more.' 
 
 ' Hope and ruin,' was the quiet reply ; and Miss Medley 
 closed the letter and put it into Mr. Verney's hands. 
 
 He paused one moment at the door. ' Let me remind you, 
 secrecy is as necessary as help. Even now one incautious
 
 134 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 word about Charlotte, about myself, about anything, in short, 
 and you may ruin us all.' 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MyrA Cameron's life had sunk back into dulness greater 
 than ordinary, in contrast to her recent excitement. She 
 missed Godfrey and Edmund and Rosamond, but more than 
 all she missed the stimulant of Mr. Verney's society. It was 
 a difficult task to be cheerful, still more difficult to be 
 obedient. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron took up Myra's time by giving her a number 
 of petty employments — dressing flowers, writing notes, carrying 
 messages backwards and forwards from the boudoir to the 
 schoolroom, with an occasional interlude of novel reading; 
 The good of such occupations was not clear, and Myra 
 attended to them listlessly, and was, in consequence, found 
 fault with. Then came the old evil of temper, and sometimes 
 disrespectful words. Myra was scolded as a child, and, in 
 consequence, retired in disgust to her own room to dream over 
 past pleasures, and contrast Mr. Verney's unobtrusive flattery 
 of her highest tastes with the wearisome complaints to which 
 she was now subject. 
 
 It was a very dangerous state of mind, for vanity was at the 
 root of it, and just that kind of vanity which was likely to dis- 
 guise itself under the form of high aspirations, longings after 
 the true, the real, the useful, such as often take the place of 
 obedience to that matter-of-fact piece of advice, heard by so 
 many English girls, and appreciated by so few, to { do their 
 duty in that state of life to which God has called them.' 
 
 Myra's safeguard was her truth; the instinct which made 
 her see actions in their true light, and call them by their true 
 names. And now when she unexpectedly made the discovery 
 that she was constantly thinking of what Mr. Verney would 
 say or had said of her, how he would advise her and talk to
 
 .1 GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 135 
 
 her, and regret the interruption of her studies — instead of 
 believing that she was thirsting for intellectual companionship, 
 and longing for guidance and direction, she simply faced the 
 fact that she was very vain, and that vanity was a degrading 
 fault, and ought to be struggled with and conquered. How ? 
 was the question ; and it was one which sounded Myra's con- 
 science to its very depth. For it is a great sacrifice which we 
 are required to make when we are called upon to subdue 
 vanity. No half measures will succeed. The root lies so deep 
 and spreads so wide that the evil which to-day we believe 
 to be dead, will to-morrow exhibit itself in a form and place 
 for which we were wholly unprepared. And the fault is one 
 with which the world deals very gently. It calls it by soft 
 names. It talks of love of approbation, and says that no 
 character is perfect without such love. Myra had heard this 
 often, for it was a favourite axiom with Mr. Verney, who was 
 indeed always as lenient towards principles as he was severe 
 upon actions. Now and then she had ventured upon argu- 
 ments with him on the subject, and as was naturally to be 
 expected, had always been conquered. But only for the time. 
 The instinct of her young honest heart was stronger than his 
 phrenology and metaphysics ; and Myra felt, though she could 
 never have told why, that although love of approbation might 
 be innocent, vanity certainly was not. Where the one ended 
 and the other began there was no necessity for her to inquire. 
 She was not called upon to write a book of moral philosophy 
 for the enlightenment of the world, but to undertake the work 
 of self-discipline. And now, in the solitude of her own room, 
 out of the reach of Mr. Verney's sophisms, she was able to look 
 at herself as in the sight of God, and in the consciousness of 
 that Presence, to judge herself by the only true standard. 
 
 Strong faults of natural disposition are generally considered 
 great evils. Yet, paradoxical though it may sound, it would 
 probably be found upon inquiry that in very many instances 
 they are great blessings. Certainly they were so in Myra's 
 case. It was quite impossible for her to shut her eyes to her 
 own moral deformity, especially since she had really, from 
 religious feelings, striven to improve. The temper, selfishness,
 
 136 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 vanity, of which she had been accused from childhood, were 
 quite evident to herself now. It might be very humiliating to 
 acknowledge them, but Myra could not act a lie upon herself; 
 and about a week after Mr. Verney's departure, the result of a 
 display of temper caused by wounded vanity, which had brought 
 upon her a lecture from her father, was the determination to 
 take out her faults, as it were, one by one, to set them before 
 herself as a whole, and see what was to be done with them. 
 
 There was a kind of stern satisfaction in the resolve, such 
 as one might imagine Brutus to have had when he sat in judg- 
 ment upon his son. Myra liked anything strong and deter- 
 mined, even if it were self-condemnation. It was not in her 
 nature to tamper either with good or evil ; and a few months 
 before there might have been somewhat of the spirit of stoicism 
 in this craving for self-discipline ; but she had learnt to think 
 very differently since her illness. If she longed for goodness 
 now, it was not as it once might have been, because goodness 
 was strength and sin weakness ; but because there was the 
 yearning, longing desire to love even as she had been loved 
 — to obey because obedience was the test of love. 
 
 And this evening, as she sat lonely and unhappy in the 
 evening twilight, struggling with the remains of her lately- 
 roused temper, there was no wounded pride in her self-examina- 
 tion. She had prayed for guidance with as sincere a desire to 
 be guided, as to act, when guidance should be granted ; and 
 it is this sincerity of purpose upon which the blessing of God 
 will always rest. 
 
 Myra thought, and prayed, and thought again, and called 
 her faults by hard names, and began to make special little 
 schemes for circumventing each in particular, until it suddenly 
 struck her, that the sacrifice she was to make was not the up- 
 rooting of any one, or two, or three faults, but of the root of 
 all faults — the sacrifice of self. Temper, vanity, self-indul- 
 gence, were but different symptoms of the same disease ; and 
 hitherto, as one had died away another had sprung up. The 
 consequence of this failure had been a want of fixedness of 
 purpose. What was required was the renunciation of self in 
 every form — in thought, in word, and in deed. Myra did not
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 137 
 
 deceive herself as to what this renunciation implied. Pleasant 
 memories of past praise ; pleasant dreams of future flattery ; 
 pleasant schemes of self-gratification ; pleasant visions of self- 
 aggrandisement — all to be crushed, trampled upon, kept down, 
 by a tread, firm and merciless ; and in their stead a life to be 
 lived for others — to be lost, as it were, in the happiness of 
 others — with a spirit of self-sacrifice which should find its 
 example in nothing short of the sacrifice of Him who had given 
 Himself for her. 
 
 No marvel that the frail human heart should sink at such 
 a prospect. Myra's heart did sink, but her resolve did not 
 therefore waver. There were some minutes of grave thought, 
 and then she knelt, and with an intensity of desire, before 
 which all former resolutions melted into nothingness, com- 
 mended her weakness to God's strength, praying Him to 
 accept her will, and give her grace to fulfil that most earnest 
 purpose of her soul. 
 
 Such seasons are, to the inward life, seasons of growth. 
 Myra felt it to be so. From that evening she was conscious 
 of having made a start into something more than womanhood 
 — of having gained a strength of principle, which was some- 
 thing more powerful than any human stimulus. And yet the 
 days which followed were marked by nothing except greater 
 quietness, and a more evenly-balanced temperament. Only 
 one thing struck Mrs. Cameron. Myra, rather timidly, said 
 to her in the course of conversation, that she thought she was 
 old enough now to stay at church on Sunday. This was her 
 way of expressing her wish to attend to a hitherto omitted 
 and sacred duty. Mrs. Cameron made no objection ; only 
 she warned Myra that young people who professed to be 
 religious should not give way to temper and be perverse — a 
 remark in which Myra acquiesced ; and that was all the out- 
 ward help she had in preparation for her first Communion. 
 Dr. Kingsbury took his part in the service on the Sunday, and 
 shook hands with her very kindly when they met afterwards ; 
 but the young, earnest, striving spirit was an enigma to him. 
 He prayed for it, but he did not know how to aid it. It was 
 ordered in God's Providence that its hopes and disappoint-
 
 133 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 merits, its struggles and its victories, should alike be endured 
 alone. A trial came on the following day. 
 
 ' Myra, my dear, I want to talk to you.' This was Mrs. 
 Cameron's usual mode of beginning a conversation about 
 nothing ; and Myra sat down by her mother's sofa. 
 
 ' Shut the door, my love. Are you sure that Juliet and 
 Annette are in the schoolroom ? ' 
 
 No, Myra was not sure, and was sent to make certain of 
 the fact. She returned, and again took her seat. 
 
 ' Is it anything of consequence you have to say, mamma ? ' 
 
 ' Of consequence ! Yes, my dear ; all things which concern 
 my children are of consequence.' 
 
 Mrs. Cameron spoke more earnestly than usual, and Myra 
 asked anxiously if anything was the matter. 
 
 ' Nothing the matter, my dear ; only I do so dislike change. 
 But your father thinks it necessary, and Mrs. Verney agrees 
 with him.' 
 
 Myra started from her seat. ' Mrs. Verney, mamma ! Why 
 does she interfere? Am I to be sent to school?' 
 
 ' My love, you are so impetuous. I said nothing about your 
 going to school. Pray, sit down again. I consider your 
 education finished. But the two younger ones have had few 
 advantages, and Mrs. Verney says very justly, that Miss 
 Greaves is not sufficient for them. She believes, and I feel 
 she is right, that with proper instruction Annette would be 
 equal to Rosamond ; and Juliet, though so clever, would be 
 much improved if she could be somewhat softened.' 
 
 Disliking Mrs. Verney, Myra's first impulse was to suggest 
 every possible objection to the plan. 
 
 ' I can't think school will be good for Juliet, mamma. Mrs. 
 Verney can't know much about her. It will make her con- 
 ceited. And Annette is, you know, not always truthful ; and 
 if she should be placed with bad companions, she will be much 
 worse. Every one says that schools are dangerous for girls 
 who have not high principles. And then, what will poor Miss 
 Greaves do ? She has nothing else to look to.' This last 
 assertion brought Myra to the consciousness that she was 
 exaggerating. Miss Greaves was by no means likely to w : ant
 
 .■1 GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 139 
 
 pupils, even if Annette and Juliet were taken from her. After 
 the pause of a second, she added, 'At least, I don't think Miss 
 Greaves will ever have any pupils she likes as well.' 
 
 ' Myra, you are so tiresome. As your father says, you 
 were born with a "no" in your mouth. Why will you always 
 see difficulties ? ' 
 
 ' I can't help it, mamma. That is, I know I see difficulties 
 when I don't like a thing.' 
 
 'It is all selfishness, Myra. You are so very selfish. You 
 never can think of what is good for any one but yourself. 
 You must try and get over the feeling, my dear. It is a great 
 fault.' 
 
 If Myra had been selfish before, she was tempted to give 
 way to a fit of unrestrained ill-temper now. But all she said 
 was, ' I suppose I am afraid of being lonely.' 
 
 < My love, I thought of that ; but you must learn to be 
 Rosamond's companion, and being with her more will be of 
 use to you. As Mrs. Verney says, it will get you out of your 
 awkward ways, and you won't be so affected in society.' 
 
 Poor Myra ! This was the most trying of all accusations. 
 ' Mamma ! ' she exclaimed, ' I don't care what Mrs. Verney 
 thinks, but if you will only tell me yourself what you mean by 
 being affected, I should be so very much obliged. Is it any 
 one thing — walking or talking — or what is it ? I don't mean 
 to be affected, but I know I am, because people tell me so, 
 and then I think about it, and _ try not to be, and that makes 
 it worse. If I could only forget myself — if any one could only 
 teach me what to do. that I might forget myself ! ' 
 
 ' How silly, my love ! To forget yourself, means not to think 
 about yourself; there is nothing mysterious in it. When you 
 go into company, or when you are introduced to any one, just 
 put all thought of yourself aside, and be natural.' 
 
 1 But, mamma, please listen — please try and understand. 
 You know I can't dress myself properly ; I can't make my 
 hair smooth, or put on my things straight — I never could ; 
 and when I am dressing for company, Conyers, and Juliet, 
 and you yourself, and even Miss Greaves, if she happens to 
 be here, all come into my room and pull me about. I don't
 
 140 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 mean to be disrespectful, but I am pulled about just as if I 
 was a doll ; and then I am told that I have an awkward stoop, 
 and that nothing ever sits properly upon me. And perhaps I 
 hear you sigh quite loudly ; and I see Rosamond so pretty — 
 I don't envy her in the least, except that she has no trouble in 
 making herself look nice ; but after all this I am sent to the 
 drawing-room, and perhaps at the very last moment stopped 
 again to be set to rights, and told to look natural and forget 
 myself. Mamma, if my life depended upon it, I couldn't 
 do it.' 
 
 Mrs. Cameron looked thunderstruck at the bold avowal. 
 ' My dear Myra, I don't understand you. But you are so 
 nervous and sensitive, it may be better not to talk about your- 
 self. Your father comforts me sometimes by saying, that when 
 you have seen more of the world there is a hope you may be 
 different ; and so he and I are both agreed that you shall go 
 with us to London for a couple of months.' 
 
 ' Anything you like, mamma.' 
 
 Myra was natural even to indifference then. 
 
 ' My dear, your father and I do everything we can to please 
 you, and I should have hoped you would have accepted the 
 idea in a different spirit. But I can see you are put out this 
 morning, so we will just turn to a different subject. Did 
 Rosamond say anything in her note to you about how long 
 Mrs. Verney would wish her to stay ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, mamma, except that they all seem very glad to 
 have her, and that they have engagements for the week after 
 next, when Mr. Verney will be with them again.' 
 
 ' Oh ! He is away now, I believe.' 
 
 ' He goes away on Friday for three days, Rosamond 
 says.' 
 
 ' Only for three days ? Your father won't like that.' 
 
 ' But I thought every one knew Mr. Verney was to be there 
 all the time Rosamond was,' observed Myra; 'I heard him 
 make the arrangements.' She looked in her mother's face to 
 see if there was any mystery to be read there.' 
 
 Yes, there was some mystery, for Mrs. Cameron inquired in 
 a disturbed tone : ' When did you hear it, Myra ? '
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 141 
 
 'Just as Mr. Vcrney was saying good-bye; the very day 
 
 before he went away,' was the answer. 
 
 ' But Rosamond told me he would be in Yorkshire.' 
 ' Yes, afterwards, when her visit is over, but not now.' 
 1 My love, ring the bell and ask if my coffee is ready.' 
 This was a signal that the conversation was to be at an 
 
 end. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MYRA wandered out into the shrubbery, seeking the most 
 solitary and hidden path. A short conversation it had been, 
 and yet how it had ruffled her. Myra was accustomed to her 
 mother's mode of alluding to her temper and affectation, and 
 could bear it better than many girls of her age would have 
 done, especially now with the purpose which lay so deep in 
 her heart, to make, in every form, the sacrifice of self. But 
 human nature is human nature still, and struggle, even though 
 it end in victory, must be felt. Myra paced the straight walk, 
 by the side of the field opposite the Rectory garden, and tried 
 to think of everything which might enable her to view her 
 annoyances in the light in which they could be best borne, and 
 as she uttered the few words of prayer which were becoming 
 habitual to her whenever her mind was disturbed, felt herself 
 recalled to a calmer, clearer atmosphere, in which everything 
 could be viewed without distortion. 
 
 This sudden plan for her sisters might or might not be good, 
 but the fact that it had been suggested by Mrs. Verney was 
 sufficient to make it unpalatable. To think, act, blunder, and 
 suffer their own way is in most cases the great desire of the 
 young. As a general rule, they prefer to starve after their 
 own fashion, rather than to live in luxury after the fashion of 
 their elders. An influence external to the family is, for this 
 reason, peculiarly obnoxious in their eyes. Let it be exerted 
 never so sincerely for their benefit, it is still resented as an
 
 142 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 interference, and Myra certainly had no cause to look with 
 favour upon any of Mrs. Verney's suggestions as they regarded 
 herself. Very useful they often were, and very necessary ; but 
 the spirit in which they were offered was cold, criticising, and 
 worldly. It was the latter element which made the two char- 
 acters antagonistic. 
 
 Yet the suggestions of the world are not always to be set 
 aside as valueless. Myra had too much common sense to 
 think this, and being aware of her prejudice against Mrs. 
 Verney, she tried all the more to view the proposed plan 
 impartially. Juliet and Annette at school! It might be 
 very desirable for them in many ways; it might give them 
 regularity, and a stimulus which would make them work. 
 And the unknown evils — she knew nothing about them, and 
 had expressed all her fears when she said to her mother that 
 Annette was untruthful, and that bad companions might make 
 her worse. Perhaps, after all — it was the conclusion arrived 
 at after the meditation of a quarter of an hour — it might not 
 be her business to trouble herself about the matter ; perhaps 
 this habit of objecting, this perpetual 'no' of which her mother 
 complained, and of which Myra herself was aware, was only 
 another form of the self to be kept under. It might be that, 
 at sixteen, she was not the best judge as to how her sisters' 
 education should be conducted. It might even be more im- 
 portant to her to consider how she should conduct her own in 
 the new phase of domestic affairs which had just presented 
 itself. If they went to London, she would be obliged to see 
 more people, and there would be no time for reading or draw- 
 ing ; it would be a perpetual round of sight-seeing and visitors 
 — visitors involving dress, dress bringing up again the dread 
 of awkwardness and affectation. The only comfort would be 
 in having Mr. Verney there. If she could go to some of the 
 exhibitions with him, it would be very pleasant ; and perhaps 
 he would persuade her father to let her have some drawing 
 lessons ; and she might find a little time for reading before 
 the very late dinners which they were sure to have. After all, 
 it might not be disagreeable. 
 
 It was self again — innocent, simple-minded, but neverthe-
 
 A GLIMPSE OF TUB WORLD. 143 
 
 less undoubtedly self; and again Myra's truth, and sense, and 
 honesty of conscience whispered to her that there was some- 
 thing higher than this reference to her own enjoyment — even 
 the thought of what she might do for others ; how she might 
 accept her London life as a type of all life, and seek to fulfil 
 the claims which each day brought ; — being useful to her 
 father, giving sympathy and attention to her mother, trying 
 to share Rosamond's pursuits, overcoming her shyness in 
 society, endeavouring to be pleasant in conversation ; and 
 putting aside the care for herself, sacrifice the hermit life 
 which was her taste, whilst living the life of the world, if need 
 be, because it was in the world that God had placed her, and 
 there that lie willed her to serve Him. 
 
 Myra could bear the prospect of London with more than 
 equanimity when she looked at it in this light. It roused her 
 energy — the energy of self-discipline and self-sacrifice ; and 
 without this energy the most varied existence will become 
 vapid — with it, the most monotonous must be interesting. 
 
 Myra was really very happy when she knocked at the door 
 of the Rectory parlour, hoping to find Mrs. Patty, and talk to 
 her about some books for the Parish Library, which she had 
 undertaken to cover and catalogue. She had formed a little 
 plan for persuading her mother to ask the old Doctor and his 
 sister to stay with them for a few days in London, and consult 
 a London physician about the Rector's ailments ; but this, of 
 course, was only a scheme in her own head at present. She 
 might, however, just say there was an idea of going to London, 
 and see what remarks Mrs. Patty would make upon the subject. 
 But she was disappointed ; no reply was made to her knock — 
 Mrs. Patty was out, and the Doctor might very probably be 
 tired and resting. Afraid of disturbing him, she found her 
 way to the kitchen, where sat Faith, close by the window, with 
 a screen between her and the fire, employed in mending the 
 Doctor's stockings. 
 
 ' Such a great hole ! ' Myra heard her say to Betsey, as the 
 latter stood by, gazing with a kind of alarmed satisfaction at 
 the heap of clothes to be mended, which were piled up in the 
 basket by Faith's chair. ' To think, now, of his not having had
 
 144 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 any new stockings for three years. Would any one believe it ? 
 Why a regiment might march through ! ' and her large thumb 
 appeared filling up the delinquent hole. 
 
 ' He would dress in rags, and be none the wiser, if it wasn't 
 for Mrs. Patty/ replied Betsey. ' But — Why, here's Miss 
 Myra, to be sure ! Beg your pardon, Miss. Do you want 
 anything ? ' 
 
 ' Only to know where Mrs. Patty is,' replied Myra. ' Is she 
 gone out ? ' 
 
 ' About half-an-hour ago ; down to Miss Medley's,' said 
 Faith, not thinking it necessary to raise her eyes from her 
 work, seeing she had known Myra, as she always said, ' from a 
 babby.' 
 
 ' If you please to leave a message, Miss, we can give it,' 
 observed Betsey more respectfully. 
 
 ' No, thank you; I can go to Miss Medley's after her.' 
 
 ' Which you'd better not do, if you'll take my word, Miss 
 Myra,' said Faith. ' She's not to be seen by every one to-day, 
 is Miss Medley.' 
 
 ' Is she ill, then ? What is the matter ? ' 
 
 ' Can't say, Miss Myra ; who can when people takes to pins' 
 heads ? But she's been very bad all night.' 
 
 ' Bad ? Ill ? Has Mr. Harrison been to her ? ' 
 
 ' No one has been ; not a Christian soul except Mrs. Patty, 
 and she forgets everything when there's good to be done. 
 But it's here,' and Faith pointed to her forehead ; 'we know 
 it, don't we, Betsey ? We've seen it coming this many 
 months.' 
 
 ' It will be better not to go to Miss Medley's, then,' said 
 Myra, perplexed and alarmed at these vague hints. 
 
 ' Not unless you wish to find yourself very much in the way, 
 Miss Myra,' replied Faith. 
 
 'But here is Mrs. Patty,' exclaimed Betsey, looking out into 
 the court. ' Dear me ! how troubled she does seem ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Patty was at the kitchen door before Myra could run 
 out to meet her. She just put her head in, and said, ' Faith ! ' 
 and Faith laid down her work silently and mysteriously, and 
 obeyed the summons. She came back again after a conference
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 145 
 
 of a few seconds. ' You had better just go and say your say 
 now, Miss Myra ; you mayn't have another opportunity.' 
 
 Myra hesitated. ' It was nothing of consequence,' she said • 
 ' only about some parish books.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Patty can attend to you. I told her you were here,' 
 repeated Faith, as she opened the door of a corner cupboard, 
 and began to search amongst a large collection of keys. 
 
 ' If it's the medicine key you are wanting,' said Betsey, 'you 
 will find it in the cupboard upstairs ; I left it there this morn- 
 ing. Is Mrs. Patty going to doctor her ? ' 
 
 ' She says she must if Mr. Harrison doesn't come. She's 
 quite light-headed.' 
 
 Myra caught the words as she was leaving the kitchen. 
 They startled her so that she forgot her little matter of busi- 
 ness, and rushing up to Mrs. Patty, exclaimed : ' Is poor Miss 
 Medley so very ill ? Can't anything be done for her ? ' 
 
 ' We must try what we can, my dear ; but we can't make 
 her take medicine like a Christian, and she is very strange. 
 O Myra ! never take to it, my dear, never. It is cruelty to your 
 friends, and death to yourself.' 
 
 ' How ? What ? ' exclaimed Myra. 
 
 ' The globules, my dear. But never mind now. She has 
 quite lost her senses, poor thing. No wonder ! And that 
 man ! ' The last words were uttered in an undertone. 
 
 'Has Mr. Harrison neglected her ? can we send for him? 
 Dear Mrs. Patty, mamma would be so glad to help.' 
 
 ' Not at all, my dear. Mr. Harrison will come when he 
 can. But just go up to the Doctor, Myra, and cheer him a 
 little. Poor dear, he is a good deal troubled. He always 
 thinks he ought to go where there is illness, and he can't. 
 He never could get up and down Mrs. Haynes's stairs. Just 
 go and talk to him, Myra.' 
 
 ' And will he be able to tell me about the books ? ' inquired 
 Myra. 
 
 'Yes, about anything you want, my dear. Only turn his 
 thoughts if you can, and tell him that if Mr. Harrison doesn't 
 come soon, I shall put a blister on poor Miss Medley myself. 
 There can't be any harm in that — can there, Faith ? ' 
 
 K
 
 146 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 1 None at all, ma'am. Blisters are blessings, whatever folks 
 may say to the contrary.' 
 
 ' Very true, Faith,' observed Mrs. Patty mournfully. ' I 
 confess it almost sounds profane to me to hear people talk 
 against them as they do.' 
 
 ' Indeed it does, ma'am. A well-risen blister is a beautiful 
 sight and a comforting, and I hope with all my heart this one 
 will do the poor lady good. Shall I go and fetch anything for 
 you, or would you like to go to the medicine chest yourself?' 
 
 ' I will go myself, thank you, Faith ; and on the way I can 
 just look in upon the Doctor, and see how he is getting on.' 
 
 ' And your dinner, Mrs. Patty ? You haven't had a morsel 
 to-day ! ' exclaimed Betsey. 
 
 ' I forgot the dinner,' was Mrs. Patty's simple reply ; ' but 
 now you remind me of it, you shall just put me up"a sandwich, 
 and I will eat it as I walk back — never mind what it is ; and 
 Miss Myra will stay to keep the Doctor company, I hope. Re- 
 member^ to have the lamb thoroughly roasted for him, Betsey 
 — rather over-roasted than not — and some asparagus j he ate 
 a few yesterday and seemed to enjoy them.' 
 
 ' There is no cold meat, I am sorry to say, for a sandwich, 
 ma'am,' said Betsey. 
 
 ' Then a little bread and cheese — it will do quite as well. 
 Get it ready, and I will manage to eat it somehow. Now, 
 Myra.' Mrs. Patty led the way to the Doctor's study, and 
 was followed by Myra, a little alarmed at the new duties which 
 she saw were to be thrust upon her.
 
 ,•1 GLIMTSE OF THE WORLD. 147 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 That the old Doctor required comfort was evident. Mrs. 
 Patty and Myra found him seated by the fire, for he always 
 had a fire in his study even on the hottest day, and leaning 
 back in his arm-chair, with St. Augustine pushed to one side 
 as if he had not the heart to study. 
 
 Mrs. Patty went up to him and touched him on the shoulder. 
 ' Doctor, dear, I have brought you a little companion. She 
 means to look after you whilst I am away. You do mean it, 
 don't you, Myra ? And you can write a note up to your 
 mamma, and tell her where you are. She will be glad to know 
 you can be of use. And, Doctor, Mr. Harrison is gone out ; 
 he has been called away for the day, and if he doesn't come 
 back in an hour — for we have sent a messenger for him — I 
 mean to try a blister myself, which is a thing, you know, that 
 won't hurt a baby.' 
 
 ' Does she know any one ?' asked the old man eagerly. 
 
 ' She didn't when I came away, so, you see, you could have 
 been of no use. Don't think about it, Doctor, dear. Now, 
 good-bye ! Myra, be sure you take care of him.' 
 
 ' Might I read to you, sir ? ' said Myra timidly, as the door 
 closed behind Mrs. Patty. It seemed a most presumptuous 
 proposition, but it was her only idea of being of use. 
 
 The Doctor took her hand kindly. < My little girl, I shall 
 tire you. Patty should have left me to myself.' 
 
 ' Oh no, sir ! I would do anything in the world I could, 
 but I am so sorry you are ill.' 
 
 ' Not ill, child ; only troubled. The poor lady, good Miss 
 Medley, is ill.' 
 
 ' If she is good, her illness doesn't so much signify, does 
 it ? ' said Myra. 
 
 ' Ah ! not for her ; but, Myra, we should do our duty whilst 
 we can. !i The night cometh when no man can work," and
 
 148 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 that is the case with me now. I cannot go to her though I 
 would.' 
 
 ' But if you would, sir, is not that enough ? ' 
 
 The Doctor repeated the word ' enough,' and then rested his 
 head against the side of his great arm-chair, and what to Myra 
 seemed a long pause followed. 
 
 What was passing in the old man's mind she could not 
 guess ; perhaps if she had known she would scarcely have 
 understood it. Such a single-hearted, earnest, and outwardly 
 innocent life he had led ; so much respect he had gained, so 
 much good done, she could little have imagined with what self- 
 reproach the spirit trembling on the brink of the grave looked 
 back upon those bygone years. The world saw nothing to 
 condemn in them. Dr. Kingsbury had been early noted as a 
 scholar, a man of classical research, a good theologian. If 
 he had entered upon his living late, and in consequence pur- 
 sued his studies somewhat in preference to his parochial duties, 
 it was only what was to be expected. And no one could say 
 that he neglected his parish ; the worst complaint that was 
 ever laid against him was that he understood books better than 
 men. He had always sought for good curates, and given them 
 a large stipend ; his charities had been profuse ; his sermons 
 full of thought and earnestness ; his supervision of his schools 
 careful and continuous. The one only point in which he failed 
 was in gaining the personal confidence of his people. In years 
 past, with his thoughts given to St. Augustine and the Fathers, 
 Dr. Kingsbury had not seen and felt this. He visited the sick 
 when they sent for him, and trusted to his sister to tell him of 
 their needs when they did not send, and so his conscience was 
 satisfied. But it was different now. The souls entrusted to 
 him came before him in more distinct individuality ; it was a 
 more separate responsibility for each which weighed upon him. 
 He would fain seek rather than be sought. He longed to change 
 places with his sister ; to know the needs of his poor by visit- 
 ing them in their own cottages • to know the temptations of 
 the young by the confidence they might be led to place in him. 
 He thought less of sermons and more of conversation. But 
 he was helpless • confined for the most part to his study, rarely
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 149 
 
 preaching, and indeed taking very little part in the public 
 service beyond assisting in the administration of the Holy 
 Communion. And not only helpless, but from habit and tone 
 of mind, incompetent — that was the most painful conscious- 
 ness. If all his energies had been restored to him, he would 
 still have felt the personal individual knowledge of his pari- 
 shioners unattainable. Myra little knew, as she sat, leaning 
 her elbow on the arm of her old friend's chair, how soothing 
 to the sensitiveness of his almost morbid conscience was the 
 fact that any young thing could thus come to him, and be in a 
 measure free with him. He did not know how to lead her on 
 to be more free ; but he felt grateful to her, and in the sim- 
 plicity of his heart, his gratitude showed itself by unreserve. 
 
 'The ^ood lady, Miss Medlev, has been failing for some 
 time, so Patty tells me,' he said, ' and Patty thinks she is wrong 
 in having taken to homoeopathy ; but there is a principle in 
 homoeopathy — a very remarkable one — not to be put aside- 
 We must not reject without inquiry. The Jews rejected our 
 Lord because they would not inquire.' 
 
 ' But some of them did inquire,' said Myra, ' and still they 
 did not believe in Him.' 
 
 'That was because they inquired in a wrong spirit, having 
 formed a previous judgment. All inquiry, to be honest, must 
 be unbiassed. My little girl, keep your heart right with God, 
 and then your judgment will be right with man.' 
 
 ' I thought judgment depended upon cleverness,' said 
 Myra. 
 
 ' Not so, child, judgment implies weighing one thing against 
 another ; it is the science of proportion. Clever people are 
 very often wanting in this knowledge of proportion ; they are 
 quicker upon one point than upon another, and so their judg- 
 ment is defective.' 
 
 ' But will doing right help one to decide about homoeo- 
 pathy ? ' said Myra. There was a little sharpness in her 
 tone, which the Doctor's grave answer instantly made her 
 aware of. 
 
 ' My little Myra, you think that clever, but it is only super- 
 ficial. Whatever helps to enlarge the moral powers, strengthens
 
 ISO A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 the intellectual. If you accustom yourself to weigh evidence 
 as a duty, and to save yourself from uncharitableness, you 
 will also learn to weigh evidence to save yourself from being a 
 fool.' 
 
 ' But I am not able to weigh the evidence for homoeopathy 
 or against it,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Then do not form a judgment about it till you can.' 
 
 1 Only I hate doubting,' persisted Myra. She made the 
 remark more for the purpose of carrying on the conversation, 
 which she saw was rather drawing the old man's thoughts 
 away from himself, than with any other object ; and it had the 
 desired effect. Dr. Kingsbury never knew whether he was 
 talking to a child or a philosopher, and this was a charm to 
 those who understood him, though it often proved a perplexity 
 to his poor people. 
 
 ' If you hate doubt,' he said, ' you hate the condition in which 
 God has placed you. What is there which is not open to 
 doubt ? And if it was not, where would be the trial of 
 faith ? ' 
 
 ' But faith is the reverse of doubt,' said Myra. 
 
 'You are mistaken, child. Faith is the certainty of the 
 spiritual faculties, opposed to the doubt of the material 
 senses • but without doubt there could be no faith. Faith will 
 not exist in Heaven, because it will there be swallowed up 
 in sight.' 
 
 'Then doubt is not a sin,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Not in itself; it is a necessity of our condition.' 
 
 ' But heretics, sceptics, infidels, are all guilty, 5 said Myra. 
 
 ' More or less, unquestionably, though God only knows 
 what amount of guilt is to' be laid to the charge of each.' 
 
 'And yet you say they were born to doubt?' said Myra. 
 
 ' Not so ; they were born to believe. There is the strange 
 fact — the startling evidence against them, that let the evidence 
 of the material senses be never so strong, the evidence of the 
 spiritual senses is yet stronger. What demonstration can be 
 more convincing to the senses than that of death ? yet where 
 is the nation, I might almost say where is the man, to be found 
 who doubts of immortality ? But I forgot — you asked to read
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 151 
 
 to me ' — and the Doctor turned in Ids chair, and twisted his 
 wig, waking up to a sudden sense of having been carried away 
 by his own earnestness. 
 
 1 I like talking, sir, if you like it,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Ah ! child, yes, I like it. Perhaps I have been too fond 
 of it in my day/ 
 
 ; lint you must always have liked reading better,' said Myra, 
 ' you have read so much.' 
 
 ' Yes. a good deal. But much study is a weariness to the 
 flesh.' 
 
 ' Not study of St. Augustine,' said Myra, smiling, as she 
 pointed to the great book. 
 
 ( The study of the living might have been better than the 
 study of the dead,' murmured the old man. ' Myra, my little 
 girl, if you put your heart into God's duties, your whole heart, 
 you will never be tempted to carve out duties for yourself.' 
 
 ' If I could put my heart into them ! ' said Myra ; and she 
 drew her chair nearer as she added, ' But I can never be as 
 good as you, sir.' 
 
 ' God, for Christ's sake, grant you to be ten thousand times 
 better ! ' and the trembling withered hand rested tenderly upon 
 Myra's head. ' I would say a prayer for good Miss Medley? 
 Myra. It will seem as if I was with her ; so open the Prayer 
 Book at the service for the Visitation of the Sick.' The book 
 was laid upon the table, and Myra was going away, but the 
 Doctor motioned to her to remain. ' When two or three join 
 together,' he said, 'the prayer is surely heard. It will be well 
 for you, my child, to learn early to pray for others.' 
 
 Myra knelt down, partly shy, partly awed ; but the earnest- 
 ness of the old man's voice, and the solemnitv of the words, 
 heard now for the first time as one of the appointed services 
 of the Church, and mingled with others more particularly 
 suited to the invalid's case, soon carried her away from every 
 thought connected with herself. She felt that the prayers were 
 only too soon ended, and when she stood up again, said, in her 
 quiet but rather abrupt way, ' Thank you, sir ; I liked that very 
 much. I hope Miss Medley will be better now.' 
 
 'That will be according as God may sec best/ was the
 
 152 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 answer. ' I think, Mvra, now I could work a little at St. 
 Augustine. If you would ring for Faith, she would wheel my 
 chair round.' 
 
 It was late before Mrs. Patty came back, with the informa- 
 tion that Miss Medley was quiet. Mr. Harrison had been to 
 see her, and Mrs. Haynes was going to sit up with her. She 
 found Myra gone, the Doctor having insisted that she should 
 return home when it grew late. 
 
 ' The little girl was very good to me, Patty,' he said, when 
 his sister began lamenting that he had been left without a com- 
 panion ; ' but I had had her with me a long time, and she read 
 to me an essay out of that volume which Mr. Verney lent me, 
 and we talked about it. She is very understanding and com- 
 panionable.' 
 
 ' So she ought to be,' observed Mrs. Patty, ' seeing she is 
 more than sixteen ; but, Doctor, dear, could you find nothing 
 better for her to read than a book of Mr. Verney's ? ' 
 
 ' Not his own, Patty. Mr. Verney is not an author ; but 
 if he were, he would write well. He has much to say that is 
 woith listening to upon all subjects.' 
 
 ' He would write better than he acts, then,' exclaimed Mrs, 
 Patty. ' I have learnt one thing this afternoon — that some- 
 how or other, I can't tell how or why, but Mr. Verney is at 
 the bottom of poor Miss Medley's trouble. She does nothing 
 but talk about him.' 
 
 ' Very likely, Patty. The brain is in a diseased state ; but 
 its aberrations can be no foundation upon which to form a 
 judgment, much less one that is uncharitable.' 
 
 ' I don't know about foundation,' replied Mrs. Patty ; ' but 
 I felt a distrust of Mr. Verney the very first time I saw him, 
 when he was talking to Rosamond Cameron the night of 
 Colonel Verney's parly ; and Mrs. Haynes declares that every 
 time he has been to see poor Miss Medley, she has shaken 
 like an aspen leaf afterwards.' 
 
 ' But Mr. Verney cannot have gone to see her so many 
 times,' said the Doctor; 'he was only a common acquaint 
 ance, except that I think he told me he had known something 
 of her nephew.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 153 
 
 1 Never mind what he says, Doctor ; what he does is the 
 question ; and he was at Miss Medley's house every other day 
 the week before last, and he has actually been down from 
 London to see her once this week, though no one but Mrs. 
 Haynes knows it ; and the result is, the poor thing has a 
 brain fever.' 
 
 ' I do not see so plainly the working of cause and effect as 
 you do, Patty,' replied the Doctor, ' and it is a peculiarity of 
 the feminine intellect to put them together illogically. Mr. 
 Verney has been to see Miss Medley — Miss Medley has brain 
 fever ; the two facts do not appear to me to have a necessary 
 connection.' 
 
 ' Not to you, Doctor, dear, but to me. I don't say that I 
 should have brain fever if Mr. Verney came to talk to me three 
 times a week, but I know I should not be far off from it ; I 
 can't believe him to be sincere.' 
 
 ' I think, Patty, we will read the thirteenth chapter of the 
 First Epistle to the Corinthians to-night, at family prayers,' 
 said the Doctor gravely ; ' it will do us both good.' 
 
 ' Certainly, if you like it, Doctor, dear ; and no doubt it 
 may do me good, for I need it. But as to you, you are good 
 enough already ; and, in the matter of judgment of your fellow- 
 creatures, it can't be doubted you are like most men, and have 
 all the reason on your side ; but still I can't trust Mr. Verney.' 
 ' O Patty, Patty ! ' The Doctor looked really distressed. 
 ' But, Doctor, dear, what can one do ? How can one help 
 judging from what one sees and hears ? I only tell you what 
 Mrs Haynes told me, when I was wondering what had brought 
 poor Miss Medley to such a pass. Globules alone would not 
 have done it, though, no doubt, they are a sign of something 
 wrong. It is worry of mind — else why should she have talked 
 to you, and wished to consult Mr. Cameron ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, money anxieties,' observed the Doctor ; ' the cause of 
 much physical as well as moral suffering.' 
 
 • But who makes the money anxieties ? ' persisted Mrs. Patty. 
 ' They are not human beings ; they don't walk into a house of 
 themselves. 
 
 ' Very true, Patty ; very true.'
 
 154 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' Then, if they don't come of themselves, and if they always 
 appear just after Mr. Verncy's visits, no one else could have 
 brought them/ said Mrs. Patty, rather triumphantly. ' Not 
 but what you may be quite right, Doctor,' she added, correct- 
 ing herself the next instant ; 'and if you say Mr. Verney is a 
 good man, it is not for me to say he is a bad one.' 
 
 1 1 say nothing about him, Patty ; I judge him only by what 
 I see.' 
 
 'And I am afraid I judge him by what I feel,' said Mrs. 
 Patty. ' That is not charity, I know ; but, somehow, I can't 
 help thinking that in this case it may be truth.' 
 
 ' Patty, I should like the servants to be called in, and for 
 us to have prayers,' said the Doctor. 
 
 ' They won't be quite ready,' said Mrs. Patty ; ' it wants five 
 minutes to half-past nine. Did Myra talk to you at all about 
 Mr. Verney, Doctor ? ' 
 
 ' I think she said she should like to see him in London.' 
 
 'In London! But are they going there?' inquired Mrs 
 Patty. 
 
 ' Surely, if I understood Myra rightly. She would have 
 persuaded me, Patty, to consult a London physician ; but I 
 told her that old age was a disease for which there was only 
 one remedy, and that was sure to come sooner or later.' 
 
 ' You would never bear the noise,' replied Mrs. Patty ; ' yet 
 it might do you good. But are they all going ? it seems a very 
 sudden move.' 
 
 ' I was selfish, and wished them all to stay,' said the Doctor ; 
 'but Myra has set her little heart upon many pleasant things.' 
 
 ' Seeing Mr. Verney amongst them,' observed Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' Which will be a very safe pleasure,' replied the Doctor, 
 'for she is but a child.' 
 
 ' Safe enough, as far as that goes,' replied Mrs. Patty ; ' but 
 it was not of her so much that I was thinking. I should like 
 to find out what made Mr. Verney leave India — whether it was 
 anything besides his health.' 
 
 ' Patty, my dear, we should remember the ninth command- 
 ment.' 
 
 ' Ah, yes, Doctor clear ! You arc quite right; but the ninth
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 135 
 
 or the tenth, they arc all alike as to the difficulty of keeping 
 them. I went through them this morning, with a prayer after 
 each, but I forgot to put in anything about Mr. Vcrney — I 
 must remember to do it to-morrow. There is the half-hour 
 striking ; so we can ring for Faith and Betsey.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Mr. Cameron's family took possession for two months of 
 a house in Chester Square. Colonel Verncy was in Eaton 
 Place. They were near neighbours, and Mrs. Cameron and 
 Mrs. Verney could meet and talk over plans for pleasure or 
 business just as if they were in the country. This was Mrs. 
 Cameron's unfailing topic of congratulation. Just at that 
 time, indeed, she particularly required all the support which 
 Mrs. Verney's advice could give. She was left almost for 
 the first time to decide an important point for herself. Mr. 
 Cameron had agreed that Juliet and Annette should be sent 
 to school ; he only required to have a vote upon the subject. 
 He would not have a large school, and he desired that it 
 should be in a healthy situation j on all other points he begged 
 Mrs. Cameron to consult Mrs. Verney. 
 
 ' That is just like himself,' said Mrs. Verney, as she took 
 her seat by Mrs. Cameron's sofa, spreading out her rich silk 
 dress so as to preclude any approach within the distance of 
 a yard. ' It is the peculiarity of Mr. Cameron's mind that, 
 although able to embrace the smallest minutiae, it soars so 
 high as apparently to be indifferent to them ; apparently only ; 
 great minds — and Mr. Cameron's certainly verges upon great- 
 ness — are reallv cognisant of all matters within the rantre ot 
 their influence or duty. His confidence, however, increases 
 our responsibility. Of course the great object to be attained 
 is the growth, moral and intellectual, of those dear children's 
 minds.'
 
 :56 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' They are backward now,' said Mrs. Cameron, ' owing, I 
 suspect, in a great measure, to my ill-health ; and they neither 
 of them take to study naturally, as Myra does.' 
 
 ' Myra is remarkable. There is an inconsistency about her 
 which, I confess, perplexes me. As my dear nephew says, 
 she is very interesting, but I confess I begin to fear that she 
 will not easily find her sphere in life ; and there will lie the 
 difficulty of making her powers useful to the utmost. I must 
 watch her more narrowly before I can determine what her 
 career is likely to be ; but the other dear girls have less com- 
 plex natures.' 
 
 ' You take such a kind interest in my children,' murmured 
 Mrs. Cameron j ' it is really a great comfort, for lately I have 
 been feeling so unwell. I sometimes think I may never live 
 to see their entrance into the world.' 
 
 ' You must banish those fancies, my dear friend ; they are 
 mere depressions, arising, no doubt, from weakness.' 
 
 ' And not being able to employ myself much,' added Mrs. 
 Cameron ; ' my eyes are so weak that I cannot see to read as 
 I used to do, and I am obliged to make Myra read to me a 
 good deal.' 
 
 'An excellent occupation for her; comfort yourself with that 
 thought. Myra's soaring and far-spreading mind may some- 
 times be the better for restraint. It does not require the 
 impetus which your little Annette's does. It has an innate 
 power of growth.' 
 
 ' In which Annette you think is deficient ? ' 
 
 1 Scarcely deficient — that is not the exact term. She and 
 Juliet are both sweet girls, but the soil in which their indi- 
 vidual capabilities have been planted is not perhaps of so 
 rich a quality, and will therefore require more cultivation 
 than Myra's ; and it is this cultivation which I hope and 
 believe will be attained by the new plan of education pro- 
 posed for them.' 
 
 ' They will have excellent opportunities for improvement, 
 with all the advantages of masters which their father is pre- 
 pared to give them,' said Mrs. Cameron. ' He really is very 
 good, and willing to make any sacrifices for them.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 137 
 
 ' A pattern parent ! ' sighed Mrs. Verney ; t I trust they will 
 repay his care. I have not yet examined carefully the claims 
 of the different establishments which have been brought before 
 my notice, but I will inquire and give you the result of my 
 observations. We shall, I think, be agreed in the wish to 
 mature Juliet's rapid intuitions into ripe judgment, without 
 checking those electric sparkles of wit which act with such 
 magical attraction. Your dear Annette will require a more 
 invigorating moral atmosphere. The stimulus of excitement 
 may, I think, be judiciously applied to her, yet not to the 
 marring of that graceful gentleness of demeanour which en- 
 hances every natural gift.' 
 
 ' And in which she is very like Rosamond, 'said Mrs. Cameron. 
 ' Speaking of Rosamond, I may mention to you, in confidence, 
 a circumstance which is likely to be of great importance to her. 
 Her aunt, Mrs. Fitzgerald, who has been out of health a long 
 time, is pronounced hopelessly ill, and if she should die the 
 whole of her property will come to Rosamond. I have never 
 said anything about such a possibility to Rosamond, neither 
 has Mr. Cameron. Until lately, we have both felt that Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald might recover, and marry again ; and, in fact, there 
 are so many chances against an event of the kind, that it was 
 very undesirable. Rosamond has a share of her mother's 
 fortune, which would be sufficient for her under any circum- 
 stances, but if Mrs. Fitzgerald's should come to her she will 
 really be an heiress in a moderate way. The fortune can be 
 scarcely less than two thousand a year.' 
 
 ' A very pleasant income for a single lady,' observed 
 Mrs. Verney ; ' and a very pleasant addition for a married 
 one.' 
 
 ' But you won't say anything about it,' said Mrs. Cameron 
 anxiously ; ' I should not have mentioned it, only that we were 
 talking about the girls and their prospects. It seems a little 
 hard to me, that my own children should have so much more 
 of a struggle before them than Rosamond — but no doubt it is 
 all right.' 
 
 'No doubt!' echoed Mrs. Verney abstractedly. 'Two 
 thousand a year, did you say?'
 
 158 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' About that ; I can't be certain exactly ; but pray, pray 
 don't talk of it. Mr. Cameron would be so very much 
 annoyed with me for mentioning the subject. He would be 
 so afraid of being thought grasping. Perhaps, upon the whole, 
 it will be better for Rosamond to come back to us now, because 
 she might hear things in conversation which would put the 
 idea into her head.' 
 
 ' I should have thought that move likely to happen at 
 home ; ' said Mrs. Yerney decidedly. 
 
 ' Why, no ; she might hear of her aunt's illness — of course, 
 indeed, she would ; but no one would think of talking about 
 the fortune.' 
 
 ' Dear Rosamond's thoughts are not bent upon that kind of 
 worldly advancement,' observed Mrs. Verney. ' She is devoting 
 herself to art, and Elise is sharing her pleasure. I should 
 grieve to interrupt their enjoyment. They are spending this 
 morning at the Royal Academy.' 
 
 ' By themselves ? ' inquired Mrs. Cameron, in some surprise. 
 
 ' Oh no ! Charles is taking care of them. He came up 
 from Northamptonshire last night.' 
 
 ' I told Mr. Cameron that Mr. Vernev was <rone out of 
 town,' said Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 ' So he was ; and he intended to remain away, but London 
 has great attractions at this season. I daresay you will see 
 him some time in the course of the afternoon.' 
 
 ' I wish Rosamond would come back,' was Mrs. Cameron's 
 reply. 
 
 ' She shall if you wish it ; only not to-day. Elise and she 
 do so enjoy this picture-hunting. You must not urge the 
 matter just for the few days that Charles is with us ; he will 
 be going back again into the country almost immediately.' 
 
 ' Are you quite sure ? ' 
 
 ' Quite — so far as that London makes him ill ; and if he 
 should not go of his own accord, the physicians will send him 
 there. Poor fellow ! He is a martyr to his exertions in that 
 Indian climate.' 
 
 ' He must have a great deal of energy of mind/ said Mrs. 
 Cameron, 'in spite of his ill-health.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 159 
 
 'Immense! and such high aims; such a sense of the 
 responsibility of the European nations — of England in parti- 
 cular — with regard to the advancement of universal civilisa- 
 tion ! I wish you could have heard him talk last night about 
 the separate vocation of each nation ; it was better than any 
 lecture. Being so clever, I feel that his society is the greatest 
 possible advantage to my girls ; and I am sure you will feel 
 the same about your Rosamond, and be content to leave her 
 with us.' 
 
 ' I might be, if I could be quite sure that Mr. Cameron 
 would approve.' 
 
 ' Oh ! leave Mr. Cameron to me. I shall soon persuade 
 him. I mean him to dine with us to-morrow, and then we will 
 talk about it. In the meantime you may be quite sure that 
 Rosamond is safe. Now, good-bye, my dear ; I have spent 
 a great deal more time here than I can afford, with my whirl 
 of engagements ; but you know that your children's interests 
 are always near my heart.' 
 
 Mrs. Verney kissed Mrs. Cameron on both cheeks, and 
 turned towards the door, but came back again. ' I forgot the 
 dressmaker ; shall I send her here ? She will effect a com- 
 plete metamorphose in Myra's appearance.' 
 
 ' I suppose it is necessary,' said Mrs. Cameron ; ' but I 
 really begin to despair about making Myra presentable.' 
 
 'But I do not. Madame Laget has a most wonderful 
 genius, and she really is not at all expensive. I have such 
 faith in her that I believe she could even convert Mrs. Patty 
 Kingsbury into a first-rate specimen of fashion. And she has 
 such a power of suiting the dress to the wearer ; it is an 
 absolute gift.' 
 
 ' Poor Mrs. Patty ! ' observed Mrs. Cameron. ' Speaking 
 of her reminds me that Myra had a letter from her this 
 morning, full of lamentation over Miss Medley's condition. 
 There seems really a doubt whether the poor thing will ever 
 recover mentally. Mrs. Patty says that the fever is diminish 
 ing, but that she is as confused as ever, and Mr. Harrison 
 thinks unfavourably of her.' 
 
 'Alas! alas! The poor human intellect! So soon ren-
 
 160 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 dered useless ! ' sighed Mrs. Verney. ' It is a lesson for us all ; 
 though I delight in talent — I can't help doing so. I wish you 
 could be with us to-morrow. We shall have some first-rate men, 
 and I quite look forward to hearing the conversation. Now, 
 really, good-bye. I am so sorry for poor Miss Medley, and 
 for Mrs. Patty, too; do tell her so ; good-bye; ' and Mrs. Verney 
 sailed out of the room, steering her way carefully amongst 
 the light chairs and fancy tables, and when arrived safely at 
 the door, turning round once more to smile, and whisper a 
 French ' Adieu, an revoir? 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Mrs. Patty's letter was brought to Myra at rather an un- 
 propitious moment for sympathy. London was very exciting, 
 and though Myra had thought beforehand that she should dis- 
 like it, she was beginning to feel the influence of the engage- 
 ments and amusements in one way or other provided for her. 
 On leaving home it had seemed that nothing could be so im- 
 portant as the village, the school, Miss Medley's illness, and 
 Johnnie Ford's admission into the Idiot Asylum, which was 
 still in process of attainment, but not yet secured ; but a morning 
 concert, a visit to the Water-Colour Gallery, a little shopping, 
 and a panorama, had given quite a new turn to her thoughts, 
 and Mrs. Patty's letter seemed to belong to a period of life, 
 and a state of existence, connected with years rather than weeks 
 gone by. 
 
 It was very useful to Myra to be recalled, though but for a 
 few minutes, to the quiet study at the Rectory, and the presence 
 of the good old man who, busy with his books, was steadfastly 
 preparing himself, day by day, for the hour which should end 
 all learning in one world, and open to him all knowledge in 
 another. Still better, perhaps, was it for her to be told of 
 weariness, and watching, and the attendant trials of an illness
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 161 
 
 so serious that, even if life were spared, it could scarcely be 
 expected to end favourably. The letter, in its quaint simplicity, 
 took her back into a more natural and healthy moral atmosphere 
 than that in which she was living, but it could not entirely coun- 
 teract the influences which surrounded her. 
 
 Myra had already discovered that the world contains many 
 inner worlds, each with its peculiar laws, and customs, and 
 standard of propriety ; and she knew that all these lesser worlds 
 could not be equally right in the sight of God ; but she was 
 unable to separate the evil which they contained from the good, 
 or to decide how much that was valuable in each might be 
 accepted and enjoyed, whilst the rest was rejected ; and so for 
 the time being she lived in her London world'without criticising 
 it, though with the uncomfortable sensation that it did not 
 harmonise with that which she had lately inhabited, and which 
 she still deemed better and happier. 
 
 Mrs. Patty's letter was read through twice, but though the 
 facts made an impression upon Myra, the little pieces of kindly 
 advice with which it was interspersed were thrown away. She 
 failed to understand what Mrs. Patty had greatly desired 
 she should understand, the warnings against admiring clever 
 people who had strange religious notions, and neglected going 
 to church. 
 
 Myra, dining with strangers nearly every day, was in the 
 habit of hearing so many strange opinions broached, that the 
 sense of novelty and falsity in them was wearing away ; and 
 as for going to church — there were evidently, in London house- 
 holds, so many obstacles in the way of such a duty, that it 
 was only charitable to believe some of them to be real. At 
 Yare, Mr. Cameron was regular at church, both in the morn- 
 ing and afternoon — he felt it necessary to set an example to 
 the parish : in London he never could manage more than the 
 morning service, whilst Mrs. Cameron required a drive, and 
 liked to have one of her children with her, and this often stood 
 in the way of their going more than once a-day. Besides, it 
 was considered a necessity to hear every celebrated preacher, 
 and in consequence there was a great deal of planning with the 
 Verneys as to who was to go with whom ; and a large portion 
 
 L
 
 163 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 of the day was often spent in driving to some distant church, 
 and then waiting in the aisles during half the service, unable 
 to sit or kneel, and with the thoughts necessarily engaged with the 
 desire to find a seat which would make seeing and hearing as 
 possible as resting. 
 
 Dress, too, was an important matter in London on a Sunday, 
 and dress was still Myra's bugbear. The moments which she 
 would have spent in quiet reading, before or after the service, 
 were devoted as a matter of duty to fastening all the ribbons, 
 and buttons, and cuffs, without which she could not possibly 
 appear before Mrs. Verney, and then running from room to 
 room to entreat that some one would tell her that she was all 
 right, so that she might escape being grasped in the carriage 
 with an ' Allow me, my dear Myra ; ' or ' Who did dress you, 
 my dear ? ' or, what was still more trying — a quiet, sarcastic 
 smile, whilst her bonnet-strings were gently untied, and tied 
 again, just so tight, or so slack, as to make her uncomfortable 
 for the whole morning. 
 
 A late dinner, with a few stray gentlemen friends, though 
 never a regular party, closed the day. Sacred music was 
 occasionally proposed, but as Rosamond was away it was not 
 very successful, and Myra generally spent the evening with a 
 volume of French sermons before her, for, with her usual 
 diversity of taste and occupation, she had lately taken to a 
 diligent perusal of Masillon and Bourdaloue, whilst she kept 
 a certain portion of her attention for conversation; not joining 
 in it, but listening whenever a word or a sentence struck her 
 as indicating anything new or entertaining. 
 
 This kind of life was certainly little likely to foster any 
 religious feeling. Much might be said in its excuse, but 
 there was undoubtedly no high tone about it, whilst there 
 was a good deal of dangerous excitement. Myra had no 
 safeguard externally — no one advised, or attempted to guide 
 her; and no one found fault with her, except when she 
 dressed herself badly. She was left apparently to herself — 
 but it was only apparently. We none of us know how our 
 characters are being moulded, until after they have been 
 worked into shape. Those few strong resolutions — the result,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 163 
 
 as it might have seemed, of temporary feeling — were not to 
 Myra herself as evidently influential now as they were when 
 she first experienced them. But they were genuine, and they 
 had been acted upon, and, as a result, they were becoming 
 habits — habits of action, habits of thought — the latter the less 
 obvious, but the more important of the two. When Myra 
 found herself in a strange, uncongenial atmosphere, called 
 upon to do things which, if not absolutely wrong, were still 
 unsatisfactory to her scrupulous conscience — whilst so dis- 
 turbed by the pressure of engagements, that feeling was almost 
 dead within her, she was, through God's help, kept in the 
 right path by duty. A very cold, dead guide that may seem 
 to some — but it has one inestimable advantage, that it is 
 wholly independent of outward circumstances. Myra read 
 the Bible, kept to her times of prayer, checked her temper, 
 and sternly battled with the self against which she had in- 
 wardly vowed such a deadly warfare, because — she scarcely 
 could have told why at the moment, but she felt that she must 
 do it, that obedience was necessary to her, and the sense of 
 disobedience — the consciousness of being out of God's favour 
 — so oppressive, that at any sacrifice it must be avoided. An 
 observant person would have been struck by the effect which 
 this unobtrusive but rigid adherence to a law of right insensibly 
 produced. ' Myra is certain to do this or that ' — ' Myra will 
 stay at home, or Myra will go' — or 'Myra has undertaken 
 to write such a note, or to pay such a visit,' were the expres- 
 sions commonly heard, and yet no one in the family was aware 
 why Myra should be so depended upon. It was certainly not 
 because she was entirely changed. Her peculiarities were 
 still observable, but they were diminishing. She was every 
 day gaining a respect from others which reacted upon her 
 own mind, by giving her confidence. Knowing that she 
 meant rightly, and with that singular sincerity of character 
 which enabled her to look her virtues in the face, as well as 
 her faults, she was becoming less and less sensitive to the 
 opinion of others, and, as a consequence, more natural and 
 unaffected. And thus Myra's difficulties were converted into 
 blessings. Under more favourable circumstances, she might
 
 1 64 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 have leaned upon others (for the bent of her mind was to lean 
 and be guided), and have lost both power and originality. 
 But left alone, without sympathy, in the midst of temptation, 
 and with her own strong natural faults struggling incessantly 
 to regain their former dominion, the whole energy of her will 
 was roused ; and the will of man, when it is one with the 
 Will of God, has a strength which none on earth, or under 
 the earth, can withstand. 
 
 ' Rosamond and Elise want you to go to the Royal Academy 
 this morning, Myra,' said Mrs. Cameron, when they met at 
 a late breakfast the day after Mrs. Verney's visit; 'you must 
 be in Eaton Place by twelve o'clock. Conyers can walk there 
 with you.' 
 
 'And Annette and I, mamma?' said Juliet. 
 
 ' My dear, you must stay at home, and attend to your 
 lessons. If you have so many holidays you will disgrace 
 yourselves when you go to school.' 
 
 I Is it decided about school ? ' asked Annette mournfully. 
 
 I I am sure it is,' exclaimed Juliet, without waiting for her 
 mother's reply. ' I was certain when Mrs. Verney went 
 away yesterday. She had just the look of a person who 
 has settled the world to her satisfaction. Where is the 
 school, mamma ? ' 
 
 ' Juliet,' said Mr. Cameron, raising his eyes from a sheet of 
 the ' Times,' ' you will ask no questions until your mamma 
 chooses to give you permission.' 
 
 ' I only wanted to know in order to be prepared,' muttered 
 Juliet. 
 
 ' Do you want to go to any particular school, my dear ? ' 
 asked Mrs. Cameron, desirous of averting a storm. 
 
 ' I should like to go to that one at which Miss Greaves was 
 teacher, and where Catharine Verney went for a short time,' 
 said Juliet, considerably emboldened by her mother's inquiry ; 
 ' Mrs. de Lancey's, in St. John's Wood. Catharine only left 
 it because it was too expensive ; she was very happy there. 
 And I wrote to ask her about it ; and, mamma, here is the 
 answer.' 
 
 Mrs. Cameron received the note, and laid it on the table
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 165 
 
 she was by no means inclined to take an active part in a task 
 which had been placed in Mrs. Verney's hands. ' We will see 
 about it, my dear/ was all the answer Juliet could obtain j and 
 a few minutes afterwards breakfast was declared ended, and 
 the party dispersed. 
 
 Juliet followed Myra into the hall. • Now, Myra, this is so 
 provoking of mamma, just when I wanted to talk to her ; but 
 you will say something, won't you ? You are going to Mrs. 
 Verney's to-day. Catharine was so very happy at Mrs. de 
 Lancey's ; and Miss Greaves told me that they have capital 
 masters there, and French and German teachers ; and they go 
 out to concerts, and have parties at home ; and, in fact, it is 
 quite delightful. Miss Greaves says that she and Charlotte 
 Stuart were never happier in their lives.' 
 
 ' And who is Charlotte Stuart ? ' inquired Myra. 
 'Oh ! the daughter of a Mr. Stuart in India, who is im- 
 mensely rich. I don't exactly know what position he holds ; 
 I think he must be a merchant ; and I believe he is a relation 
 of Miss Medley's, but I never asked much about him. I only 
 cared to know what Miss Greaves did. She was a kind of half 
 pupil, half teacher j and Charlotte Stuart was only a year or two 
 younger than herself, and they were great friends.' 
 'And Miss Greaves liked Mrs. de Lancey, did she?' 
 ' Oh yes ! extremely ; and Annette and I have made up 
 our minds that we must go there. It will be such fun ! and 
 we can write to Catharine all about it. Just talk to mamma 
 and Mrs. Verney, won't you ? ' 
 
 ' I will if I can ; if I see my way to it' 
 ' But make a way ; it is only the will that you want.' 
 ' I am not sure that I have the will,' replied Myra. ' Any- 
 how, Juliet,' she added, observing her sister's face of disap- 
 pointment, ' I won't forget it ; but I may not see Mrs. Verney 
 alone.' 
 
 ' You will be sure to do that, if you go out in a party. Mr. 
 Verney and Rosamond will be together ; and you, and Mrs. 
 Verney and Elise will walk behind j and Elise is nobody.' 
 ' Mr. Verney ! ' exclaimed Myra ; ' he is not come back ? ' 
 'Yes, he is. Conyers saw him yesterday; and Myra' —
 
 166 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Juliet drew quite close to her sister, and spoke nearly in a 
 whisper — ' Conyers says every one at Colonel Verney's is 
 talking- about Rosamond's being married to Mr. Verney. Do 
 you' think she will be ? ' 
 
 Myra could have laughed at the suggestion, so like her own, 
 and made almost in her own words ; but Mrs. Patty's reserve 
 had given her a lesson which she had jjrofited by, and she 
 answered, with grave propriety, that ' such gossip ought not to 
 be listened to ; ' and then turned away, with a feeling of greatly 
 increased satisfaction at the prospect of the morning's engage- 
 ment. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The drawing-room in Eaton Place was much more attractive 
 than the drawing-room in Chester Square. It was a peculiar 
 gift of Mrs. Verney's to throw an air of refined mystery over 
 things as well as persons. When she spoke of her furniture, 
 it was always in terms which idealised the several articles. 
 Her curtains were not curtains, but draperies ; they did not 
 conceal windows, but they veiled recesses. Her sofas were 
 couches ; her ornaments, bijouterie ; her books, the breathings 
 of talent ; her pictures, the efforts of artistic genius ; and, to a 
 certain extent, it was quite true that the everyday articles of 
 comfort or luxury which Mrs. Verney collected together did, 
 by some peculiar arrangement, produce a different effect in her 
 drawing-room from that which they would have done elsewhere. 
 Soft pink was the prevailing colour, and it seemed to pervade 
 the atmosphere. The sunlight never glared upon it, and the 
 clouds scarcely seemed to darken it. There were all appli- 
 ances for reading, writing, and needlework, but no one would 
 have thought of study or active employment in Mrs. Verney's 
 drawing-room. Poetry might, indeed, be read, but it must be 
 from a beautifully bound edition ; and notes might be written,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 167 
 
 but the pen must be gold, and the paper must be embossed 
 and scented ; and for needlework, Mrs. Verney's exquisite ivory 
 workbox always lay open, but the implements it contained were 
 fit for nothing but some very delicate piece of embroidery. 
 The room was, in fact, as Mrs. Verney declared, devoted to 
 the interchange of thought, stimulated and refined by the 
 charms of elegance and art. 
 
 Rosamond Cameron was a fitting goddess for such a temple, 
 and it was to be supposed that Mr. Verney thought so, for he 
 had seated himself in the best position for admiring her, and 
 though pretending to read a review, was really carrying on a 
 bantering conversation, not one sentence of which could bear 
 repetition, but which yet served to keep them mutually en- 
 grossed with each other. Myra's appearance was an interrup- 
 tion, and evidently not, to Rosamond, a very agreeable one. 
 Mr. Verney, on the contrary, actually roused himself to go 
 forward several steps to meet her, and ask how she was, and 
 what she had been doing with herself; and that in a very 
 natural, hearty manner, which, in spite of his rather drawling 
 tone, showed that he was really pleased to see her. 
 
 ' I was coming to you this afternoon,' he said, ' if my aunt 
 had not arranged our all going out together this morning. I 
 suppose Mrs. Cameron would admit me.' 
 
 'Mamma drives out generally about four,' said Myra, 'and 
 I very often go with her.' 
 
 ' Then I shall come before four, and we will talk over the 
 things to be seen and heard in London ; not mere sight- 
 seeing, but lectures and curiosities.' 
 
 ' Things to suit Myra's learned tastes,' said Rosamond, 
 laughing, though a little sarcastically. 
 
 ' I don't call her learned,' replied Mr. Verney. ' 1 hate 
 learned women, be they old or young.' 
 
 ' All gentlemen do,' said Rosamond. ' They are afraid of 
 the discovery of their own ignorance.' 
 
 ; Possibly,' was the languid reply, as Mr. Verney threw 
 himself back in an arm-chair. ' I never took the trouble to 
 inquire into the origin of the feeling. It is an instinct — born 
 with us.'
 
 1 68 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' But do you think that women can ever be as learned as 
 men ? ' asked Myra. 
 
 ' Oh ! spare us that discussion, my dear child,' exclaimed 
 Rosamond ; ' one might as well have a social science meeting 
 at once.' 
 
 ' Can a rose ever be an oak ? ' asked Mr. Verney. ' Yet 
 who does not prefer the rose ? ' 
 
 ' Except in a storm, when one wants shelter,' said Myra 
 lightly. ' I confess I should like to be more useful than 
 a rose. I doubt if it might not even be better to be a 
 potato.' 
 
 ' Eaten, digested, and giving nourishment,' said Mr. Verney. 
 ' Well ! it strikes me that you may very possibly obtain that 
 amount of value, but I wish, for my sake, you would add a 
 little grace and beauty to it. Be a potato in blossom at any 
 rate.' 
 
 ' If I could/ said Myra. ' But I must be contented to be 
 what I am ; ' and then — as a reply, containing a little of that 
 unmeaning flattery which even the most sensible men are apt 
 to think women can enjoy, rose to Mr. Verney's lips — he wa3 
 stopped by Myra's suddenly turning to a totally different sub- 
 ject, and saying to Rosamond : ' I have had a letter from Mrs. 
 Patty, should you like to see it ? ' 
 
 ' Ca depend,' was Rosamond's answer. ' Is it legible ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, quite.' 
 
 ' Is it interesting ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, to me.' 
 
 ' That implies a doubt ; what do you say, Mr. Verney ? ' 
 
 Mr. Verney's attention had been wandering rather uncivilly, 
 for he required an explanation. ' Mrs. Patty Kingsbury, were 
 you talking of? Any communication from her must be worthy 
 of a place in the archives of the British Museum.' 
 
 ' I don't wish any one to read her letter who would laugh at 
 it,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Laugh ! who could laugh at Mrs. Patty ? ' exclaimed Mr. 
 Verney. ' I have the profoundest reverence for her.' 
 
 'And so have I,' said Rosamond. ' She taught me to walk 
 in pattens, and I have never lost the accomplishment.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 169 
 
 Myra was silent. 
 
 ' We have touched a sensitive nerve,' said Rosamond ironi- 
 cally, as she turned to Mr. Verney. 
 
 But he answered in a different tone : ' I do reverence her 
 really.' 
 
 ' Every one must who knows her,' observed Myra, ' she is so 
 very good.' 
 
 ' Too good,' said Rosamond. 
 
 ' But no one can be that,' answered Myra. 
 
 'Too good for this work-a-day existence, though,' said Rosa- 
 mond. ' What would this world be if we were all like her ? 
 Fancy a continent, a kingdom, even an island, peopled with 
 Mrs. Patty Kingsburys.' 
 
 ' There is a place which will be peopled with beings very 
 like them, I suspect,' said Myra, as the colour mounted to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 ' I was not aware that Myra could be so enthusiastic in her 
 attachments,' said Rosamond ; 'were you, Mr. Verney?' 
 
 ' I guessed it,' was his reply ; and Myra looked at him 
 gratefully and said — 
 
 ' Thank you. I should not mind showing you Mrs. Patty's 
 letter.' He held out his hand for it, but Myra, when taken at 
 her word, felt as though she might be about to commit a breach 
 of confidence. Rosamond playfully caught the letter from her. 
 ' It was offered to me first,' she said, 'so I will read it out for 
 the benefit of the company, omitting all portions which should 
 be omitted. Trust me, Myra,' she added, seeing her sister's 
 look of caution. ' Now, Mr. Verney, attend.' 
 
 The preamble of the letter contained all Mrs. Patty's reasons, 
 social and domestic, for not having written before ; but the 
 first was conclusive. She had not had a moment of time, for 
 she had been waiting night and day upon Miss Medley, who 
 was very ill indeed. Mr. Verney was holding a pencil-case in 
 his hand. When Rosamond came to these words, he dropped 
 it on the floor suddenly. Myra, who was looking at him, 
 thought that he started ; but it could only have been a fancy — - 
 he sat so still during the remainder of the letter, with his eyes 
 fixed upon the ground, and listening.
 
 170 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 When Rosamond had finished, he said quietly, ' Poor Mrs. 
 Patty seems anxious about her friend.' 
 
 ' And she has reason to be,' said Myra. ' Papa heard from 
 some one else that it is feared Miss Medley's mind will never 
 be right again.' 
 
 ' 1 though it never was right before,' said Rosamond lightly. 
 ' She was always half mad about homoeopathy.' 
 
 ' Yes, she was very strange,' said Myra, with a sudden 
 recollection of the day when she had borrowed the umbrella, 
 and Miss Medley had been so nervous at Mr. Verney's visit. 
 She looked at Mr. Verney with a kind of vague expectation 
 that he would make some allusion to his acquaintance, but, 
 on the contrary, he began — as if Miss Medley was almost a 
 stranger to him — asking where she came from, how long she 
 had lived at Yare, who her relations were, &c. 
 
 Myra was puzzled. She said presently, ' But you do know 
 Miss Medley, Mr. Verney.' Her decided tone seemed to 
 strike him, for he looked up, and their eyes met. ' Yes,' he 
 answered ; ' that is, I have seen her, as I have every one in 
 Yare, but seeing and knowing are very different. One thing, 
 indeed, I did know — that she was a homceopathist.' 
 
 He spoke so naturally that Myra could not suspect any 
 mystery. Perhaps Miss Medley's strange manner on that 
 particular day might have been the forerunner of disease. 
 She was almost tempted to make some remark which might 
 bring an explanation, but she was bound by her pro- 
 mise ; and in reply she merely said, ' It is not homoeopathy 
 which has brought on her sudden illness now ; but some 
 worry about money, so Mrs. Patty says in a note written to 
 mamma.' 
 
 ' To Mrs. Cameron ? ' inquired Mr. Verney. ' Does Mrs. 
 Patty keep up such a very vigorous correspondence ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! no. She only wrote a few lines about Johnnie 
 Ford ' 
 
 'And the Idiot Asylum,' said Rosamond; 'I am tired of 
 hearing about it. That good little Mr. Baines has been 
 working so hard for it merely because I asked him. But 
 Mr. Verney, you seem quite subdued by Mrs. Patty's mourn-
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 171 
 
 ful intelligence. Don't you think your spirits would be revived 
 by the Royal Academy? It wants only five minutes to twelve, 
 and the carriage will be here directly ; I think I shall go and put 
 my bonnet on.' 
 
 Rosamond glided gently out of the room, watched by 
 Mr. Verney till the door was closed behind her, whilst Myra 
 studied Mrs. Patty's letter again. 
 
 When Rosamond was gone, Mr. Verney said, ' I don't want 
 my visits to Miss Medley to be talked about, Myra. You are 
 to be trusted, I know.' 
 
 ' I hope so,' said Myra, taken quite by surprise. 
 
 ' Yes, you are to be trusted. I trust you.' 
 
 ' I am glad you do.' 
 
 ' And I mean to show it. You must let me know when you 
 have news of that poor thing.' 
 
 f Of Miss Medley !' Myra could not conceal her astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 ' Yes ; never mind why ; only bring me news of her. Let 
 me know as often as possible how she is, and if she wants for 
 anything. 
 
 It struck Myra as a very odd request, but she did not 
 exactly see why she was to refuse, and she said, ' Yes, if I 
 can.' 
 
 ' Of course this is between ourselves,' added Mr. Verney. 
 
 And Myra again could say nothing but ' Yes.' Yet a little 
 weight fell upon her heart.
 
 172 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 They went to the Royal Academy, and Mr. Verney was parti- 
 cularly kind to Myra. He took her to the best pictures, and 
 pointed out their beauties and their defects. She had quite 
 an artist's lesson from him, and it was very enjoyable. But 
 when they parted afterwards, in Chester Square, he said, in a 
 low voice, ' I shall call to-morrow, to know if you have heard 
 anything more ; ' and then the weight became rather heavier, 
 and Myra ran upstairs to her own room without going to her 
 mother, because she wanted just to be alone, and think what 
 it was that was making her uncomfortable. 
 
 Secresy ! It was that which she disliked, though she could 
 not feel herself responsible for it. Myra had been often a 
 very tiresome playmate in her childhood, because she never 
 could be made to understand the pleasure of concealment. 
 Juliet liked it for what she called the fun of it, and Annette 
 had a natural taste for it, fostered by Rosamond's influence ; 
 but Myra was provokingly transparent. Plots and plans, 
 except in fiction, were odious to her, and, with her small 
 experience of the world, she was inclined to condemn all 
 mystery, without distinction. Now, however, she was brought to 
 feel that mystery might possibly be necessary. If it were not, 
 Mr. Verney would never have imposed the annoyance upon 
 her, for he must know that it was annoying. It was one thing 
 to be told not to talk of his visits to Miss Medley — they were 
 not her concern • but to give private messages was very 
 different. Myra said to herself, that if any one else had made 
 the request she would have refused ■ but Mr. Verney would 
 never ask her to do anything that was wrong, and if it was 
 not wrong then she need not worry herself about it ; and so 
 she went downstairs to read to her mother. 
 
 The next day brought Mr. Verney and his aunt, early — at 
 least before luncheon time. Mrs. Verney came to talk over
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 173 
 
 schools ; Mr. Verney to arrange a party for a morning concert 
 the next week. Myra was uncomfortable the whole time, be- 
 cause she knew he was watching to speak to her alone, and 
 she had to manoeuvre a little to give him the opportunity. 
 After all, there was little enough to be said, except that Mr. 
 Cameron had heard from Dr. Kingsbury, who mentioned in 
 a postscript that Mrs. Patty was still in attendance upon poor 
 Miss Medley, and that change of air was recommended for 
 her ; but there seemed a difficulty about the financial arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 Myra had a momentary doubt how far she was justified in 
 repeating this latter sentence ; but then she had promised to 
 tell Mr. Verney what she knew, and if she told him only half, 
 she would not be keeping her word. He was so grateful to 
 her, so evidently and kindly interested in Miss Medley's con- 
 dition, that she liked him more than ever. And there was the 
 flattered vanity also. Truthful, earnest, and watchful as Myra 
 was becoming, she was not quite aware yet of the power of 
 that most insidious of all influences. Mr. Verney's confidence 
 was very pleasant to her, and, if it was purchased at the price 
 of a little mystery, there was nothing, surely, required of her at 
 which any right conscience could fairly take alarm. 
 
 So matters went on for nearly a fortnight, whilst Rosamond 
 still showed no signs of intending to return home, and Mrs. 
 Cameron always talked as if she must and would, but never 
 issued her commands upon the subject ; for Mrs. Verney was 
 bent upon keeping her, and Mrs. Verney governed both house- 
 holds. Not, however, with Mr. Cameron's knowledge; no 
 man ever more fully believed himself to be lord and master in 
 his own family. And had he not been put upon his guard 
 with respect to Rosamond? Had he not declared that the 
 report was an absurdity, that the difference of age was an in- 
 surmountable objection, that he detested the Stormont politics, 
 and would have nothing to do with them, and if people talked 
 so foolishly, he would never let his daughter go near the Ver- 
 neys again ? 
 
 Yes, Mr. Cameron had said all this, and a great deal like it 
 besides, on the day when he insisted to his wife that Rosamond
 
 174 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 should not go up to London under Mr. Verney's escort, and 
 bo he continued to say ; but not one whit the more did he act 
 upon his saying. 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Cameron, your deep penetrativeness fathoms 
 my nephew's character/ said Mrs. Verney. ' His mind is 
 given to schemes of philanthropy. He feels his broken health, 
 and under such a trial sympathy is a necessity. So the society 
 of your dear family is soothing to him, and to us all. Your 
 sweet Rosamond is a sunbeam in our household ; she and my 
 two girls make such a charming trio, I really cannot part with 
 them. And separate action is so good for Myra ; you must see 
 how she is expanding, in her sister's absence. I see traits which 
 remind me of your own noble independence, and self-reliant 
 energy. Myra will gain strength daily by the freedom thus 
 given her. I feel for your parental tenderness, but you are the 
 last person to allow feeling, even the strongest and purest, to 
 predominate over considerations which are material to your 
 children's best interests. 
 
 Certainly, Mr. Cameron had not the slightest intention of 
 allowing feeling to predominate under any circumstances; and, 
 moreover, he could not possibly contradict a lady who so 
 thoroughly understood him. Generally speaking, whenever he 
 heard what was said of himself, it proved to be something 
 disagreeable — either that he was stiff, or unapproachable, or 
 obstinate, or selfish. Most unpleasant remarks of this kind 
 had at times been made, especially after elections and public 
 meetings ; but such testimony to his virtues from the wife of his 
 political adversary was incontrovertible. And as Mrs. Verney 
 could thus appreciate him, she would naturally appreciate his 
 children, and be a good judge of what was desirable for them. 
 The world's gossip was, no doubt, very disagreeable, but, after 
 all, it might be well to rise superior to it ; and so Mr. Cameron 
 did not interfere. 
 
 The school question was progressing to Juliet's satisfaction. 
 Mrs. Verney had collected reports and prospectuses of the 
 chief schools in and near London. She had carefully balanced 
 their merits and demerits ; weighed the advantage of having 
 Mr. A. for drawing against the disadvantage of losing Signor
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 175 
 
 B. for singing, and collected the names of the young ladies 
 who were considered the best specimens of the various systems ; 
 and, after thorough inquiry, Mrs. de Lancey's establishment in 
 St. John's Wood was fixed upon, as being upon the whole 
 pre-eminent in principle, accomplishments, and style. And it 
 was style which Juliet and Annette decidedly needed — Annette 
 perhaps the least ; but Juliet, though she could not be said to 
 dress badly, was unmistakably a country girl — abrupt in man- 
 ner, loud in tone, dictatorial, and interfering. Quiet self-disci- 
 pline might, perhaps, have been effectual in softening these 
 disagreeable characteristics. It was singular to remark how 
 much more gentle and pleasing Myra had become since she 
 had learnt to watch herself, and prefer the wishes of others to 
 her own ; but then, as Mrs. Verney said, it was so excessively 
 difficult to give girls of thirteen and fourteen any idea of self- 
 discipline. They could not understand it, and it was such a 
 very tedious process ! Give them the habits and manners of 
 refined society first, and by and by self-discipline would follow 
 as a thing of course. 
 
 ' The world teaches it, my dear/ she observed, when Mrs. 
 Cameron one day remarked upon Myra's increasing self-control, 
 and expressed a wish that her two younger girls might imitate 
 it. ' The world teaches it, and school is a little world. Girls 
 quiz one another, and governesses are strict and sharp ; and 
 where there is a tone of good society — call it fashionable 
 society if you will — young people learn very quickly what they 
 may, and what they may not do. Awkwardness makes them 
 feel awkward, and so they strive against it. There is no dis- 
 cipline like it.' 
 
 ' But Juliet is just one of those girls who might become 
 what is called fast,' said Mrs. Cameron, ' and I detest fast 
 girls, and it would drive her father frantic if she were to be 
 one.' 
 
 ' You need have no fear, my dear,' was the reply. ' The 
 young people at Mrs. de Lancey's are just the class to 
 despise vulgar fastness, they are above it. If there are little 
 eccentricities and freedoms, they all are of a safe kind. As 
 far as I can learn, and I really have inquired very narrowly,
 
 176 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 there is nothing in the school in the least approaching to 
 bad taste. Mrs. de Lancey's young people are never noisy. 
 I have never heard of one who had become an objectionable 
 flirt. Of course, all girls will carry on a little innocent flirting 
 in a quiet way, but that one must shut one's eyes to.' 
 
 ' I suppose so,' said Mrs. Cameron, with a smile. ' I have 
 heard Rosamond called a flirt.' 
 
 ' It is very hard upon her,' replied Mrs. Verney, 'when she 
 is so remarkably subdued and sweet in all her ways — so prettily 
 unconscious of her own fascination. But I can understand 
 what people mean. She does manage to attract men without 
 appearing to make any effort. Even old Dr. Kingsbury is 
 bewitched with her; and as for my husband, he says he really 
 cannot give up the pleasure of looking at her and watching her.' 
 
 ' It is curious how tastes differ,' said Mrs. Cameron. ' Rosa- 
 mond is a much greater favourite with gentlemen than she is 
 with ladies.' 
 
 ' Yes, she is so bright and graceful, and makes such a pretty 
 picture, and that is all that most gentlemen care for, unless 
 they happen to be philosophers like my nephew, or have grave 
 notions about marriage, and compatibility of taste. I don't 
 mean that dear Rosamond is not a great denl more than 
 pretty to look at, but only that it is that which is valuable in 
 society, and which must, of course, therefore be aimed at. 
 Will you allow me to enter into negotiations with Mrs. de 
 Lancey ? ' 
 
 ' I must speak to Mr. Cameron first, but I should think 
 he could have no objection. I can't help wishing that the 
 children could have been sent to her at once. It would 
 be so much more convenient ; for Mr. Cameron has been 
 talking of going abroad, and I don't think we could take 
 them with us.' 
 
 'Oh! don't trouble yourself about that for an instant ; they 
 should be under my charge till the school re-opens in August. 
 I should be charmed to have them with me.' 
 
 ' How kind you are, you obviate all difficulties ; and really 
 I am feeling so very unwell, that I don't feel at all equal to 
 thought about anything.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 177 
 
 Mrs. Verney had heard this said so often that the words 
 alone would have had no effect upon her, but she happened 
 to look at Mrs. Cameron at the same instant, and it did 
 certainly strike her that there might be some meaning in 
 them. Mrs. Cameron was very thin, and just now appeared 
 much older than her age, and there was a dimness about 
 her eyes which was the more noticeable because her only 
 claim to anything like beauty lay in the upper part of her 
 face. 
 
 ' I am afraid you are very unwell, my dear,' she said; 'you 
 have had so much harass in coming to London, and so much 
 to think of about the children. But change will, I trust, 
 restore your too sensitive nature to its vigour. Where do you 
 think of going ? ' 
 
 ' We have not quite made up our minds yet. Godfrey has 
 undertaken to mark out a route for us. I rather dread it ; but 
 Mr. Cameron seems bent upon it, and I suppose it may be as 
 well. The doctors say that if I get my strength up my eyes 
 will come right again, but really sometimes I begin to doubt. 
 I don't know what I should do without Myra.' 
 
 ' So useful, is she ? I feared her intellectual faculties were 
 so constantly exercised, that she might scarcely be able to 
 understand the minutiae of life, and I should have thought that 
 Juliet would have had greater capacity for the attendance 
 required by an invalid.' 
 
 'Juliet is very capable,' said Mrs. Cameron, 'but she wants 
 the will. What I find in Myra is, that when she tells me she 
 will do a thing she does it. You can't think what a help that 
 is, in this London life especially. And then Myra reads to 
 me, and I think she likes it ; at least she makes pleasant 
 bright remarks about the book, and never yawns as Juliet 
 does. I should be glad if Mrs. de Lancey could do any- 
 thing in the way of making Juliet more thoughtful for 
 others.' 
 
 Mrs. Verney smiled. ' We must take one lesson at a time. 
 Poor Juliet will have enough to do to think of herself at first. 
 She will find herself so unable to meet the requirements of the 
 masters that she will be compelled to devote herself to the 
 
 M
 
 t 7 S A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 one object of keeping on a level with her young companions. 
 Competition will be her stimulus, and for the present I fear 
 you must be prepared to sacrifice everything to this. After- 
 wards, no doubt, there will be other lessons to learn. Life 
 in the world, as you and I know full well, is by no means 
 easy ; and young people are taught amiability by discovering 
 how disagreeable they are without it. Your dear little Juliet 
 will come all right by and by ; only have patience with her.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Mr. Verney dined in Chester Square the next day, but he 
 seemed very unwell, and was thoroughly out of spirits. He 
 had been invited to meet Godfrey, and talk over the projected 
 tour, and his cousins Henrietta and Elise were to accompany 
 him. It was to be quite a free, sociable party, without any 
 strangers ; and as Rosamond was really at last obliged to 
 return to her own home, in order to prepare for going abroad, 
 it would be a pleasant way of breaking off her visit. 
 
 But sociable parties require that every one should be in 
 good-humour, from the very fact that they are so sociable as 
 to require less self-restraint. Mr. Verney was sufficiently at 
 home with the Camerons to feel himself released from the 
 necessity of making himself agreeable. Rosamond, in her 
 own home, and having only Henrietta and Elise Verney to 
 trouble her, might be as indifferent to the general comfort as 
 she chose ; and Godfrey — always dissatisfied when he could 
 not shine, and finding his efforts at wit and cleverness thrown 
 back, like a gutta-percha ball, by Mr. Verney's sarcastic re- 
 marks — became more pretentious and dogmatic, and struck 
 all the harder because he felt that he made no impression. 
 They were an ill-assorted company, and no one felt it more 
 than Myra. The same sensitiveness which made her so alive 
 to her own failures in society, gave her an insight into those
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 179 
 
 of others. Any want of congeniality, or any cloud of temper 
 or depression, affected her like an east wind ; she could not 
 forget it. The very instant Mr. Verncy entered the room she 
 was quite sure that he was what is termed ' out of sorts ; ' and 
 the tone of Rosamond's voice as she said, ' So you see, mamma, 
 I am come back at last,' showed that no help was to be ex- 
 pected from her in making the dinner and the evening pass 
 off pleasantly. Myra secretly attributed the moodiness of both 
 to the same cause. They were about to be separated, and, 
 naturally enough, they were unhappy ; for Myra had now 
 established their mutual attachment as a fact in her own 
 mind. She very much wished to be sympathetic, and she felt 
 very sorry for Mr. Verney, and would have given a great deal 
 to be allowed to tell him so ; but Rosamond was selfish when 
 she was unhappy, and to sympathise with selfishness is a 
 serious difficulty, if not an impossibility. The dinner passed 
 stupidly. There was a little commonplace conversation, carried 
 on chiefly by Godfrey and Henrietta Verney, but Mr. Verney 
 scarcely spoke. Mrs. Cameron was weary, and retired very 
 soon after dessert ; and then, when they went upstairs, Juliet 
 carried off Henrietta and Elise to show them some illumination 
 which she and Annette had been attempting for the first time, 
 whilst Rosamond lounged in an easy-chair with a novel, and 
 Myra was left to attend to her mother. 
 
 ' I think, mamma, you would do better to lie down in the 
 inner drawing-room just till the gentlemen come up : don't you 
 think so ? ' she said. 
 
 ' I should like to stay here for the present, my dear, and 
 Rosamond will tell me what she has been doing.' 
 
 ' I, mamma ? ' Rosamond looked up from her book. ' Oh, 
 I have nothing to tell. My life has been just like every other 
 person's life in London.' 
 
 ' Except mine,' said Mrs. Cameron querulously. ' You have 
 gone out to parties, which I have not.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, parties,' replied Rosamond, returning to her novel, 
 ' but they are all alike. 1 
 
 ' You and Mr. Verney were laughing about one yesterday, 
 when I was in Eaton Place,' said Myra, 'and I thought I
 
 i8o A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 would leave it to you to tell mamma about it for fear of making 
 mistakes. That party, I mean, where there were so many 
 foreigners.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, that one ! It was very amusing.' 
 
 'Were they French?' asked Mrs. Cameron, in a tone of 
 interest. 
 
 'French, and Germans, and all sorts; they were very absurd.' 
 
 ' Do tell mamma some of their blunders in speaking Eng- 
 lish,' said Myra. 
 
 ' I can't remember them exactly. Do you know, Myra, 
 where the second volume of this book is ? ' 
 
 ' It maybe in mamma's room,' said Myra. 
 
 ' If you would be so good as to go and fetch it for me, I 
 should be so much obliged. When one is once settled in an 
 easy-chair it is next to impossible to move.' 
 
 Myra could not but go, though her unwillingness was evi- 
 dent. 
 
 ' It is a pity Myra is so disobliging,' was Rosamond's remark 
 to Mrs. Cameron in her absence. ' It really makes one quite 
 hesitate to ask her to do anything.' 
 
 ' Myra is very good to me,' said Mrs. Cameron. ' What a 
 long visit you have paid, Rosamond ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, longer a great deal than I anticipated, but we have 
 had such endless engagements. Do you know, mamma, Mr. 
 Verney says he thinks, after all, he may go back to India in 
 the autumn ? ' 
 
 ' Does he ? We shall be all sorry for that. But I hope his 
 health will stand it. Did he go with you to all your parties, 
 Rosamond ? ' 
 
 'Not to all.' 
 
 ' Your dinners were on a grand scale, I hear,' said Mrs. 
 Cameron. ' The Verneys are certainly extravagant.' 
 
 ' They give handsome dinners,' replied Rosamond. ' I 
 don't know whether they can be called extravagant. Mrs. 
 Verney thinks them necessary.' 
 
 'And did you meet many celebrities ?' asked Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 ' One or two ; at least they were pointed out to me. I 
 seldom talked to them.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 1S1 
 
 Mrs. Cameron asked no more questions, but retired to the 
 inner drawing-room, lay down on the sofa, and closed her 
 eyes. Myra returned with the novel, for which Rosamond 
 was graciously grateful, and then she also took a book and 
 seated herself near her mother. 
 
 Presently she heard Mr. Verney enter the outer room, and 
 say to Rosamond, ' Your father and Godfrey are looking over 
 maps, so I came upstairs. 
 
 'And you would not stay to help them?' said Rosamond. 
 
 'Why should I? It is all the same to me, as I am to be 
 left lonely.' 
 
 ' But you will follow us as you have promised ? ' 
 
 ' If I am able. You know how willingly I would say more.' 
 
 Myra coughed then, and Mr. Verney came into the inner 
 room. Myra pointed to her mother, and he smiled and drew 
 a chair near, and said in a tone of interest, ' I am so sorry to 
 see her so tired. Do you think I ought to go away ? ' 
 
 ' Not if you will talk low ; she does not mind you.' 
 
 ' Then I may have a little quiet conversation with you all 
 by myself. It is not often I find the opportunity.' 
 
 ' This is the last we shall have, I am afraid,' said Myra, ' we 
 are going so soon. But, Mr. Verney, I shall never forget how 
 kind you have been to me.' 
 
 ' Not kind,' he said, ' if kind implies an effort or a sacrifice. 
 It has been a pleasure to me to do anything for you.' 
 
 ' And you have done a great deal,' continued Myra. ' You 
 have given me so much to think about. I owe half my enjoy- 
 ment in London to you.' 
 
 Mr. Verney sighed deeply. ' Ah, Myra,' he said, ' you don't 
 know how I can reciprocate the thanks ; how many times you 
 have drawn me out of myself, and made me forget. There is 
 the one longing of life — forgetfulness.' 
 
 ' Is it ? ' asked Myra. • She fixed her eyes upon him wonder- 
 ingly. 
 
 ' Yes,' he continued. ' One might begin a new life if one 
 could only forget that which is old. But, dear child, that is 
 all a riddle to you. You will go abroad and enjoy yourself. 
 You have no idea of the excitement of seeing a foreign country
 
 i32 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 for the first time. I am afraid though you will do what I can- 
 not do, and at least forget me.' 
 
 ' Excitement will not make me do so,' said Myra. ' When 
 any person has got into one's mind and helped one on, it is 
 impossible to forget.' 
 
 ' You are attributing to me a good deed of which I was quite 
 unconscious. I have never helped any one in your sense of 
 the word.' 
 
 ' You have me,' said Myra. 
 
 ' But how ? ' 
 
 1 By making me understand better how people may differ 
 and yet be good,' said Myra. 
 
 ' I am thankful I have done that. It is a great thing to 
 learn.' 
 
 'Yet I can't think that differences are of no consequence,' 
 said Myra. ' Dr. Kingsbury always says they are.' 
 
 'So you pit me against the old Doctor. Well, he is a 
 worthy antagonist. But, Myra, when do you mean to think 
 for yourself? ' 
 
 ' When I have learnt and seen enough,' said Myra. ' One 
 can't think to any purpose without facts as a foundation.' 
 
 Mr. Verney seemed amused. ' I wish people would re- 
 member that,' he said. ' They confound the power of thought 
 with the exercise of thought. They draw their facts, as they 
 term them, from their own minds, and because they reason 
 cleverly about them suppose they have arrived at truth. You 
 are right, Myra. Study the world well before you arrive at 
 your conclusions.' 
 
 ' Or, at least, before I confess them,' said Myra. ' I am 
 afraid I am tempted to arrive at them very rapidly.' 
 
 ' You are a woman, and have intuitions. You may be thank- 
 ful for them.' 
 
 ' May I ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. They save you trouble, and that is a great thing in 
 this weary world ; and they are just as likely to be right, as 
 our so-called reasonable judgments, which in nine cases out 
 of ten are worked out by prejudice that sees only one side. 
 Have you heard of that poor thing at Yare to-day? '
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 183 
 
 ' Not to-day. Wc heard yesterday.' 
 
 'And she was going on well ?' 
 
 ' In some ways, but her mind is still confused, and Mrs. 
 Patty thinks she must have some one to take care of her, only 
 it will be very expensive.' 
 
 Mr. Verney began a sentence — stopped in the middle — and 
 turned away abruptly, just as Mrs. Cameron languidly opening 
 her eyes said, ' Myra, my dear, have the gentlemen come up ? ' 
 
 'Only Mr. Verney, mamma; I am so vexed we disturbed 
 you,' and Myra drew near the sofa to arrange her mother's 
 cushions. 
 
 Mr. Verney went to the outer room, and sat down near the 
 folding-doors. Rosamond's attention was instantly disengaged 
 from her book, and she said to him banteringly, ' You and 
 Myra have been talking secrets so loudly, that you have dis- 
 turbed poor mamma.' 
 
 ' Yes, it was very wrong of us ; I am extremely sorry.' 
 
 ' I should like to guess what the secrets were,' continued 
 Rosamond. 
 
 ' Should you ? ' and he smiled ; but the smile had no heart 
 in it, and Rosamond could get nothing more from him till 
 coffee was brought up, and the rest of the party reappeared. 
 Then he joined in the conversation about the journey, and 
 seemed himself again. 
 
 ' My father and I have been looking at maps,' said Godfrey, 
 'and have settled everything admirably.' 
 
 ' Taking in Paris, of course ? ' said Rosamond. 
 
 'Just not taking it in. It will be too much for my mother 
 now ; and you can spend a day or two there on your return if 
 you like it. Besides, Rosamond, vou have been to Paris.' 
 
 ' Precisely the reason why I want to go there again. And 
 there is Myra who has never seen it.' 
 
 ' Don't think about me,' said Myra, who was making tea at 
 a distant table, ' I shall like anything; and, in fact, there is no 
 one to be thought about but mamma.' 
 
 'A consideration which at once simplifies the question,' 
 observed Mr. Cameron. ' ^Ye will have no discussions, 
 Rosamond; Pari? is set aside.'
 
 1 84 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Rosamond did not look sulky or frown, but she went back 
 to her novel. 
 
 ' Then where are you going ? ' inquired Mr. Verney. 
 
 ' To the Salzkammergut/ replied Godfrey. ' You know it, 
 of course. The finest part of the Austrian Tyrol. Ischl is a 
 charming place for headquarters.' 
 
 ' Is it ? I was never there.' 
 
 Godfrey's countenance brightened immediately. ' Indeed ! 
 But of course you don't know Europe thoroughly. A splendid 
 country it is. The Dachstein is magnificent. We were seven 
 hours in reaching the highest peak. Left at four in the morn- 
 ing, and were back at Gosau by eight.' 
 
 1 But poor mamma can't ascend the Dachstein,' said 
 Myra. 
 
 Godfrey smiled sarcastically. ' She can enjoy the scenery 
 though, and she will. You will find the change work wonders 
 for her, and it is quite within reach now. The railway is open 
 nearly to Salzburg, so the journey is very simple. I don't think 
 there is a doubt about the route we marked out being the best ? ' 
 he added, turning to his father. 
 
 ' Not if we decide upon going to Ischl,' said Mr. Cameron; 
 ' but I should prefer consulting your mother's wishes.' 
 
 ' If you will take my advice, sir,' said Godfrey, 'you won't 
 think of consulting her. An invalid's fancies are endless. 
 Just tell her where she is going, and she will bring her mind 
 to it. There is not a greater mistake made than that of ask- 
 ing opinions unnecessarily.' 
 
 ' Perfectly true in many cases,' replied Mr. Cameron, ' not 
 in all.' 
 
 ' Discussions do worry mamma,' said Myra. ' She told me 
 so yesterday.' 
 
 ' Myra is bewitched with the idea of the scenery,' observed 
 Rosamond, looking up from her book. ' She forgets how dull 
 mamma will be in that out-of-the-way part of the world.' 
 
 The colour rushed to Myra's cheeks. ' I hope I don't think 
 of myself, Rosamond,' she began hastily ; but she caught Mr. 
 Verney's eye, and added in a different tone, ' Dr. Richardson 
 recommended moving about.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 185 
 
 ' In civilised places,' said Rosamond ; ' not with the risk of 
 wretched hotels and rough roads.' 
 
 'There is a capital hotel at Ischl,' said Godfrey. 
 
 'And what medical advice ?' suggested Mr Verney. 
 
 That was a serious consideration ; and for the time it put 
 an end to the conversation as regarded Mrs. Cameron. But 
 Godfrey was not willing to let his acquaintance with the Salz- 
 kammergut prove so utterly useless. 
 
 ' You should go to Hallstadt,' he continued, addressing Mr. 
 Verney. ' The salt mines are wonderful — immensely interest- 
 ing to a geologist. You are a geologist, of course ? ' 
 
 ' By no means of course,' was the reply. ' Are you one ? ' 
 
 ' I don't profess to be so ; one never likes to profess in these 
 days ; but I do just know the rudiments — what every one 
 knows. I found some curious fossils at Hallstadt, and 
 studied them a little, and when I came home I sketched out 
 a theory which I put into the form of a pamphlet, and the 
 Geological Society took it up, and made a laudatory fuss 
 about it. But it was a mere outline — a suggestion — nothing 
 to what I could have done if I had given myself to the sub- 
 ject. You know one can't do everything, and my time 
 was really given to sketching. I should like to show you 
 a little view of the Hallstadt Lake. Myra, I think I gave it 
 to you ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Myra, ' it was to Rosamond. I have seen it in 
 her portfolio since we came to London.'' 
 
 Myra went to fetch the portfolio from the inner room, and 
 brought back another with it. ' O Mr. Verney ! ' she said, 
 ' this is yours. You left it the day before yesterday, when you 
 were showing mamma those views of Como.' 
 
 ' I want to see Como,' said Mr. Cameron. ' I have an idea 
 that, after all, the north of Italy may be better than anything 
 else.' 
 
 ' There are sketches of all kinds, taken by a friend of mine,' 
 said Mr. Verney. ' We were a month or rather longer in the 
 neighbourhood.' 
 
 He unfastened the portfolio, and Mr. Cameron looked at the 
 sketches. He was pompous in his approval, but not personally
 
 1 86 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 conceited, and Mr. Verney evidently turned, to him as a relief 
 after Godfrey. 
 
 ' This is not Italian, is it?' said Mr. Cameron, taking up a 
 drawing with the view of a bridge, a river, and a snow-moun- 
 tain in the distance. He examined it closely. ' Very pretty, 
 but a different style from the rest, not so decided.' 
 
 ' Yes, it is different, 5 said Mr. Verney carelessly. 
 
 ' It must be by a pupil of Mr. Brownlow's,' observed Godfrey, 
 laughing ; ' I know that colouring so well.' 
 
 ' Oh ! that is Rosamond's/ exclaimed Myra, who happened 
 to draw near the table at that moment. 
 
 'Rosamond's!' repeated Mr. Cameron. His tone was 
 chilling. 
 
 ' It is Annette's,' said Rosamond quietly. ' Mr. Verney 
 took a fancy to it at Yare, and so it was given him. That is 
 why it resembles Mr. Brownlow's style. Myra, you recollect, 
 it was Annette's prize drawing.' 
 
 Yes, Myra recollected that fact well enough ; but she felt 
 very uncomfortable ; almost as if she was sanctioning a 
 falsehood. She murmured an answer which was not very 
 intelligible. 
 
 'It is rematkably good,' said Mr. Cameron. 'Annette 
 should have had it framed if I had seen it. Not that I 
 grudge it you,' he added, addressing Mr. Verney, with a 
 stiff courtesy of manner. ' No doubt Annette was only too 
 proud to give it to you.' 
 
 ' I could not part with it, at any rate,' said Mr. Verney ; but 
 he turned it over quickly, and then shut up the portfolio. 
 
 Annette just then came in from the inner room, where she 
 had been listening to a conversation carried on between her 
 mother and Henrietta Verney upon school education. Mr. 
 Cameron was going to speak to her about the drawing, but 
 he lost the opportunity, for, before she approached the table, 
 Rosamond went up to her, and said something in a low voice, 
 and they left the room together. Myra was vexed with her- 
 self for the feeling of suspicion which lingered in her mind, 
 but the history of this particular drawing had from the first 
 been so associated with what seemed to her a want of open-
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 187 
 
 ness, that the sight of it, especially when it was so decidedly 
 pronounced to be Annette's, annoyed her. It was Rosamond's 
 drawing to all intents and purposes, and Mr. Verney evidently 
 considered it as such. He did not wish to conceal anything, 
 but Myra was quite sure that Rosamond did. To have 
 Annette drawn into and encouraged in anything underhand, 
 was an odious idea. Myra was almost inclined to talk to Mr. 
 Verney about the matter, but a dread of appearing imper- 
 tinent kept her back. 
 
 She had great ideas of the privileges accorded to persons 
 in love, and believed that many little signs of private under- 
 standing were to be permitted to them, which were not admis- 
 sible in the case of ordinary mortals. Actual deception or 
 untruth could, however, under no circumstances, be placed in 
 this permitted category, and it would be impossible for Mr. 
 Verney to be a sharer in anything of that nature. Still, Myra 
 did not quite like to ask him who had really given him the 
 drawing, neither did she feel quite sure of having a sincere 
 answer from Annette. Like many other persons who are 
 doubtful of hearing truth, she preferred to remain in igno- 
 rance. 
 
 When Mr. Verney bade Myra good-night, he said, i If you 
 hear anything more about expenses to be incurred for that 
 poor thing, let me know ; I might be able to help.' 
 
 ' Would you ! Oh, thank you ! Mrs. Patty will think it so 
 kind.' 
 
 A cloud came over his face. Myra fancied he did not like 
 to be thanked for his thoughtfulness.
 
 1 83 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Whoever has read Longfellow's ' Hyperion,' has heard of the 
 lovely lake of St. Wolfgang, and the attractions of the little 
 town of St. Gilgen. But the charm with which genius and 
 poetry invest any particular locality, must always be, in a 
 certain degree, dispelled by the stern experience of travelling. 
 Fascinating as the village of St. Gilgen and its surrounding 
 scenery would undoubtedly appear to a person strong both in 
 physical and moral constitution, it was anything but fascinating 
 to the two forlorn ladies who — ensconced in the interior of a 
 shaky and dirty vehicle, capable of containing only two per 
 sons, and closed as a protection from the deluges of July in a 
 mountainous country — descended the road which leads to the 
 shore of the lake, and, skirting its southern bank, conveys the 
 traveller to the fashionable Austrian watering-place, Ischl. 
 
 The elder of the two ladies was plain in face, plain in dress, 
 and middle-aged. She looked rather careworn ; and, if de- 
 parted youth had left her any remnants of excitability, they 
 were exhibited more in the form of anxiety than of pleasure. 
 She was very anxious at that moment, no one could have 
 doubted it ; and few who looked at the pale, though very 
 beautiful, face of her young companion, would have deemed 
 her uneasiness unreasonable. To be travelling with a half- 
 fainting invalid, late in the evening, in an unknown country, 
 seeing an indefinite distance before, and having traversed a 
 weary length of way behind ; above all, finding no prospect of 
 accommodation, but that which can be afforded by the most 
 homely of what in England would be termed public-houses, is 
 not exhilarating to the spirits. 
 
 Moreover, the lady in question was but a very indifferent 
 German scholar, and up to this time had been dependent 
 upon her young friend as a medium of communication with 
 landlords, waiters, and peasants ; but there was no hope of
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 189 
 
 such assistance now. The young lady's feeble voice could only 
 just be heard, as she entreated that the carriage might be 
 stopped ; and when this was done, she leaned back as though 
 unable to say more. 
 
 ' Don't you think I might bring you something to eat, Char- 
 lotte, my dear ? A little soup ? You have had nothing all 
 day.' 
 
 The question was put very hesitatingly, Mrs. Tracy being 
 doubtful upon two points ; first, how she should manage to 
 ask for the soup ; and, next, what it would be like when she 
 obtained it. 
 
 1 If you would, please. It might be as well.' 
 
 Mrs. Tracy left the rickety carriage, went a few steps for- 
 ward, and then returned. ' The German for soup, Charlotte, 
 my dear ? I can't think of it.' 
 
 ' Zuppe, Aunt Mary ; but if I may have some water ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, my love. Wasser — Zuppe — that is right, is it 
 not ? You shall have some directly. Wasser — Zuppe ; ich 
 will haben ' — and she proceeded on her way towards the little 
 inn, repeating the words as she went, every now and then 
 stopping to look back to the carriage, apparently with a faint 
 hope that, after all, her niece would appear to help her, as 
 she had often done before. 
 
 The open archway of the inn was crowded with peasants. 
 They had placed a table in the centre, and were sitting round 
 it, not exactly carousing, like Englishmen under similar cir- 
 cumstances, but imbibing beer and smoke, to the decided 
 deadening of the few faculties they possessed by nature. 
 
 Mrs. Tracy threaded her way amongst them, gathering her 
 garments closely together, and looking timidly from one side 
 to the other, whilst she sought for some one to whom she 
 might address herself. Gazing eyes met her ; and laughs, by 
 no means melodious or respectful, followed her ; but she 
 pressed forward undauntedly to the window of the little bar- 
 room, opening into the court, where stood a stout German 
 woman, dealing out portions of thick liquid, in which floated 
 balls of unknown quality — possibly bread, possibly meat, pos- 
 sibly — it might be as well not to inquire.
 
 190 A GLIMPSE OP THE WORLD. 
 
 * JVasser, Zufifte, gcbcn sie mir' Mrs. Tracy felt quite in- 
 spirited when she found how much German she could, upon 
 an emergency, command ; and something in her appearance 
 gained the attention of the bar-maid, who motioned to the 
 rough peasants to stand aside, and proceeded to ladle out, from 
 a huge receptacle in the background, a plateful of the thick 
 liquid, dipping into it a wide pewter spoon, and handing with 
 her fingers a piece of coarse brown bread. With this, and the 
 glass of water, Mrs. Tracy hurried back to the carriage ; and, 
 placing the plate of soup in her niece's lap, assured her that 
 it looked excellent, and she almost thought she must have some 
 herself. ' Just try it, Charlotte, dear, if only one spoonful ; 
 remember, we have a long way to go even now.' 
 
 ' The water, please, first, Aunt Mary. I am so sorry you 
 should have so much trouble.' 
 
 ' No trouble, my love, if you would only eat ; and if I 
 understood German better. It must be a long distance to 
 Ischl still ; so pray eat.' 
 
 ' Aunt Mary ' — and the young girl looked eagerly in her 
 aunt's face—' I have been thinking — -wishing. Can we not go 
 at once to St. Wolfgang? 4 
 
 ' My dear child ! Impossible. A country village? What 
 is to become of us ? and no doctor ! ' 
 
 'But I long to go. I want to see friends — those friends of 
 yours. I shall hear something from them; and I can rest by 
 the lake, and be still. There will be no noise there — no people. 
 I dread Ischl, Aunt Mary.' 
 
 ' My friends have long lived out of England, Charlotte ; they 
 will not be able to tell you anything you wish to know. When 
 we have settled ourselves at Ischl, and you are better, you 
 shall drive over there.' 
 
 'But it will be quiet; and 1 want quiet. They said, at 
 Salzburg, that Ischl was fashionable. O Aunt Mary ! I am 
 so tired ; let me be quiet.' 
 
 The tone was that of a weary petted child, admitting of no 
 contradiction. Mrs. Tracy again repeated that a good hote\ 
 and a doctor, were to be met with at Ischl ; whilst at St. 
 Wolfgang they could expect only the kindness of friends, who
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. igi 
 
 could not be expected to take them into their house, and who, 
 it was even possible, might not be there to greet them. The 
 invalid, with the wilfulness of illness, carried her point. And 
 Mrs. Tracy, taking the plate and the glass in her hand, went 
 back with them to the inn, leaving her niece to explain to the 
 driver the change in their plans. 
 
 The crowd in the archway had rather increased. Every one 
 was watching the strangers, and, as Mrs. Tracy approached, 
 a sturdy man placed himself in her way, and addressed her in 
 a German patois, to which, although unable to comprehend a 
 word, she listened with an air of polite attention, until the 
 countenances of the peasants round the table, and the tone of 
 the man himself, convinced her that the beer had been too 
 potent for him ; and that her ignorance of the German lan- 
 guage was for once a blessing. The poor lady's equanimity 
 was completely upset by the discovery. She dared not attempt 
 to pass the man, so as to lay the plate and glass on the table ; 
 she could not appeal for assistance ; and she was upon the 
 point of turning back again to the carriage, when a gentleman 
 and two ladies, who had just landed from the lake, appeared 
 in front of the archway ; and the former, seeing her distress, 
 immediately came to her relief. He was English — a stranger, 
 apparently, like herself — stiff as English people always are ; 
 but he performed his little act of civility courteously, walked 
 back with her to the carriage, and made the remark that the 
 weather was very bad ; and he supposed she had come from 
 Salzburg. 
 
 ' Yes, from Salzburg ; and we had thought of going to Ischl, 
 but my friend prefers St. Wolfgang.' 
 
 ' You will have indifferent accommodation there, I am 
 afraid ; at least, if you are at all particular.' 
 
 ' My young friend is a great invalid,' was the reply j ' and 
 comfort is of the greatest importance.' 
 
 ' Then by all means go to Ischl ; you will find Baur's Hotel 
 expensive, but good. Can I assist you farther ? ' 
 
 ' Thank you, no. I am greatly obliged.' And the gentle- 
 man took off his hat, and the lady made her curtsey ; and 
 though they had not said that they were mutually shy of new
 
 192 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 acquaintances, the fact was as evident as though the words 
 had been uttered. 
 
 ' He looks like an English officer,' said Mrs. Tracy, as she 
 related the little adventure to her niece. ' They came, I sup- 
 pose, from the opposite side. That must be St. Wolfgang 
 across the lake ; I wonder whether we could find a boat to 
 take us there instead of going round ? ' 
 
 The suggestion was delightful to the weary invalid ; but the 
 driver declared it impracticable. There was a boat to be had 
 sometimes — he did not believe there was one now ; he could 
 not inquire about it, the weather was likely to be bad again ; 
 and it would make very little difference, the road was not long ; 
 and, in fact 
 
 ' He must have his own way, Aunt Mary,' said the poor 
 girl in a languid voice ; ' only tell him to go quickly. Per- 
 haps it is as well not to run the risk of a storm. Just say 
 " 'schnell " to him ; he will understand.' 
 
 But though l ^ schnelV might have produced an effect upon 
 the driver, it had none upon his horses, who were taking their 
 evening repast as deliberately as if they had been settled for 
 the night in their stable, and of course a German driver could 
 not hurry his animals. 
 
 ' We shall never get there,' sighed Mrs. Tracy, as she looked 
 out of the carriage window ; ' and there are our friends setting 
 off again in their boat. How I envy them ! But there are two 
 gentlemen now — I wonder where the other came from.' 
 
 Charlotte took no notice. Airs. Tracy continued her re- 
 marks : ' He is very tall ; very like 1 can't see his face, and 
 
 it is impossible ' 
 
 ' Impossible ! what, Aunt Mary ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, my love. They are waiting for the young lady 
 who is gathering flowers.' 
 
 ' Come, Myra,' called out the gentleman who had spoken 
 to Mrs. Tracy, ' we shall be obliged to go without you ; there 
 will be another shower soon.' 
 
 The young girl ran forward, and, on her way, dropped her 
 handkerchief. Mrs. Tracy saw it, and, leaving the carriage, 
 followed her and restored it, at the same time gazing earnestly
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 193 
 
 at the two gentlemen, but their faces were turned away, and 
 she could not recognise them. A few seconds afterwards the 
 boat put off from the shore, and glided across the lake in the 
 direction of the white cottages and the tall spire of St. Wolf- 
 gang- 
 
 If beauty of scenery could have diverted the thoughts of 
 
 anxiety, or soothed the sense of illness, both care and suffering 
 might soon have been forgotten in the loveliness of that evening 
 drive along the shore of the still lake, shut in as it was by the 
 mountains of Styria, which, though in one part terminating in 
 precipitous cliffs, In another descended gradually to the shore, 
 leaving space for the green alps, and woods, the rocks, and 
 chalets which rose above the village of St. Wolfgang. The 
 clouds were dispersing gradually, and the promise of the 
 morrow was brighter than it had been for weeks. In the clear 
 evening light St. Wolfgang looked quite close, but a few 
 minutes' row across the lake. The strangers' boat could be 
 seen, drawing nearer and nearer — not so the carriage. Along 
 the rough road the horses soberly trotted, but no closer were 
 they to the wished-for goal. The length of the lake, and not 
 its breadth, lay between. The sick girl's face grew more pale, 
 if that were possible. She could no longer attempt to sleep, 
 the road was so bad. It left the immediate bank of the lake, 
 and seemed to take a direction inland. That was quite hope- 
 less. Mrs. Tracy suggested that the driver had lost his way ; 
 but it is not so easy to lose one's way where there is only one 
 road to be taken. The driver knew quite well where he was 
 going, seven long miles at least ; any person might have been 
 aware of that who had taken the trouble to calculate, but Mrs. 
 Tracy had, till lately, left calculations to her niece. 
 
 They turned the head of the lake at last, and then once more 
 hope dawned upon them, and a smile passed over the face of 
 the weary girl. But the goal was still beyond • as far as they 
 had gone beyond St. Wolfgang, so far, of course, they must 
 £0 back. Mrs. Tracy rested her niece's head on her shoulder, 
 and bathed her forehead with eau-de-cologne, and looked up 
 to the mighty hills and the darkening sky j and if she had 
 uttered her thoughts aloud, they would surely have been those 
 
 N
 
 194 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 of regret for the task she had undertaken — the endeavour to 
 give change and pleasure in a case in which the quiet and the 
 comfort of home seemed the one imperative necessity. 
 
 St. Wolfgang at last ! The carriage descended a steep 
 though short hill, and they entered a scattered village — the 
 houses of a tolerable size, but decayed, and fit only for a poor 
 population. The little street through which they drove was 
 irregular and dirty ; there were gardens, and trees, and steep 
 lanes leading to the green uplands on the mountain side, but 
 it was decidedly not a resting-place for an invalid. 
 
 The driver stopped his horses in front of a moderate-sized 
 hotel, which was situated in an open ' Place,' having the church 
 and a flight of broad steps on one side. The landlord, a man 
 of unprepossessing countenance, and with a disagreeably fami- 
 liar manner, came out to receive them. Mrs. Tracy did not even 
 ask if they could have comfortable rooms — her young com- 
 panion was so entirely exhausted that accommodation of any 
 kind must be accepted. They were taken up some dirty stairs, 
 and through an ante-room with several apartments opening 
 into it — one of them a kind of public salon, in which several 
 men were drinking. The invalid was laid upon a bed in a 
 cheerless room, with deal furniture and no carpet ; the only 
 attempt at comfort a rickety sofa ; and such a noise from the 
 salon ! But there was no alternative ; and the sick, lonely, 
 and weary travellers were left to find what rest and comfort 
 they could, under circumstances which, but for the hope of 
 having friends near, would have been utterly disheartening.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WOULD. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 It was the hour for evening service at St. Wolfgang. The 
 church was partially filled with kneeling peasants, and the organ 
 was pealing through the building. 
 
 Myra Cameron crossed the open Place, and stopped for a 
 moment to listen as she drew near the church ; then, ascend- 
 ing a flight of steps close to the entrance, she passed along a 
 covered arcade overhanging the lake, and opened a door which 
 led into a long vaulted passage, whitewashed, but decorated 
 with twining creepers. At the end of this passage another 
 flight of steps conducted her into a long corridor, at the ex- 
 tremity of which was a dining-room, large, but low, and hung 
 with pictures. Within was a drawing-room, longer and nar- 
 rower, and furnished with many English comforts. Still be- 
 yond were other rooms, some almost unfurnished. Myra 
 hastened through them, till at length unlocking a small door, 
 opening from a room evidently uninhabited, she entered a 
 gallery from which she could look down into the grand old 
 church dedicated to the memory and the miracles of St. Wolf- 
 gang. 
 
 Myra did not understand the service that was going on, it 
 did but strike her as devotional. Pilgrims might indeed come 
 to kiss the rock on which St. Wolfgang knelt, and hang effigies 
 of arms and legs around his shrine in thankfulness for his 
 miraculous cures ; but the absurd legends she had heard were 
 at the moment forgotten, and, alive as she always was to external 
 impressions, the splendid church — with its groined roof, its 
 Gothic arches, and richly-carved altarpiece, seen , in the dim 
 light — was inexpressibly solemn to her. And at that moment 
 Myra was alone — singularly alone in feeling — and the luxury 
 of pouring out her heart to God was a relief in which she could 
 not but indulge. So she knelt, and prayed long and earnestly, 
 whilst the music rose, and swelled, and died away, and the
 
 196 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 harsh voices of the peasants mingled with the deep tones of 
 the priest, as they offered their evening petition — it might be 
 indeed to the Blessed Virgin, and not to Christ, but of this 
 Myra did not think ; she felt only that she, like them, was 
 praying, and that God could understand and answer her. 
 
 Some one else softly entered the gallery whilst she was there. 
 Myra heard the step, and with the shyness of English feeling 
 instantly rose. Mr. Verney was standing in the doorway. He 
 made a sign to her not to move, and they remained for several 
 minutes listening to the conclusion of the service, and when it 
 was ended, watching the peasants as the greater number left 
 the church, whilst a few lingered still behind in silent prayer. 
 Myra would then have retired herself, but Mr. Verney pre- 
 vented her. 
 
 ' We shall not disturb them,' he said, in rather a low voice, 
 as Myra pointed to the kneeling figures below. 'They can 
 say what they have to say without troubling themselves as to 
 the meaning. That you see, Myra,' he added sarcastically, 
 ' is one of the great advantages of Roman Catholic devotion. 
 But I came to say good-bye — I must go back to Ischl to-night.' 
 
 ' Must you ? ' exclaimed Myra, in a tone of great disap- 
 pointment. ' I hoped you would stay till to-morrow. Thsugh 
 I know they will want you there. Mamma has been better 
 ever since you have been with us, and you have managed 
 everything so nicely. All has gone right since we met you 
 at Munich. And having you here to-day has been delightful.' 
 
 ' Yes. That row on the lake was delicious. But you will 
 be very happy here, Myra. You have a most lovely country 
 to see, and your friends will be very kind to you. You mean 
 to be with them about a week, don't you ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps so. I don't quite know how long mamma will be 
 able to stay at Ischl. Shall we go now ? ' Myra spoke rather 
 abruptly ; she disliked this talking upon ordinary subjects when 
 looking down upon the church. 
 
 Mr. Verney changed his tone instantly. ' No, we won't go 
 ust yet. It is not often that we can have such quiet moments, 
 Should you like to be a Roman Catholic, Myra ? ' 
 
 ' No,' was Myra's decided answer.
 
 & 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 197 
 
 'I think I should, if I could only believe. It would be a 
 very resting faith.' 
 
 ' I like truth,' said Myra. 'I like what I am not afraid to 
 look into.' 
 
 Mr. Verney sighed, and answered rather ironically: ' I know 
 you are inclined to Rationalism ; so am I, unfortunately.' 
 
 ' No,' exclaimed Myra, ' I am not a Rationalist, because 
 Rationalists have no certain truth. O Mr. Verney! it would 
 be miserable not to be believe something fixed and definite.' 
 
 ' So people say,' he replied, and I daresay they are right : 
 though when one has long ceased to know what happiness 
 means, it is difficult to understand how any mere belief could 
 give it.' 
 
 I wish I knew how to make you happy,' said Myra earnestly; 
 'you have been so very kind to me.' 
 
 ' One thing you may do for me,' was the reply. ' Try not 
 to be led away by what the world may say of me.' 
 
 ' But does the world speak ill of you ? ' inquired Myra. ' I 
 never heard any one do so yet.' 
 
 Mr. Verney laughed. ' Then you are more fortunate than 
 I am myself. But don't distress yourself; only, if people 
 ever do abuse me, just try to take my part. And now I 
 suppose I must go. What shall I say to your mother for 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' Tell her to keep well, and beg Rosamond to let me hear 
 every day how she is. And please say I am enjoying myself 
 here. Colonel and Mrs. Hensman are so kind, and I am to 
 go up the Schaffberg one day. Are you sure you cannot 
 come over again ? ' 
 
 Mr. Verney made no answer. He was bending over the 
 gallery. A lady had just entered the church below, who was 
 gazing about her with an air of mingled nervousness and 
 curiosity. Two or three poor people, beggars and cripples, 
 were still in the church, and one of them came up and asked 
 for alms, and then the lady turned, and her face was clearly 
 seen. Myra recognised her as the stranger at St. Gilgen, and 
 pointed her out to Mr. Verney. 
 
 ' Yes,' he said shortly, ' it is the same.'
 
 198 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 1 She looks frightened and unhappy,' whispered Myra, ' and 
 see, she is praying.' 
 
 The lady knelt. She was no Roman Catholic, accustomed 
 to devotion in public, for she looked round her, evidently 
 fearing remark. 
 
 Myra instinctively drew back from the front of the gallery, 
 but Mr. Verney remained there ; yet he might not have been 
 watching the stranger, for his face was hidden by his hand. 
 But when, after a few seconds, the lady rose and left the 
 church, he also stood up and again said good-bye to Myra. 
 His tone was then so strange, hurried, and faltering, that 
 Myra was upon the point of asking him whether he was ill, 
 but she hesitated for an instant, and before she had time to 
 put the question he was gone. 
 
 Myra was very sorry, even more sorry than when they 
 had last parted in England. He had been with them now 
 for more than a fortnight, staying with them at Munich, and 
 going through the galleries, and then travelling with them to 
 the lovely Konig See and Berchtesgaden — from thence accom- 
 panying them to Salzburg, and seeing them fairly settled at 
 Ischl, where Edmund was to join them, and they were to 
 make excursions in the Salzkammergut. So far all had been 
 well. Mrs. Cameron's health was improved, though her eye- 
 sight was still in an unsatisfactory state, and Mr. Cameron 
 was pleased at being the manager of the party, and was glad 
 to have Myra as a sensible companion. Mr. Verney had 
 met them accidentally, at least so every one thought. He had 
 remained in England long after them, and then, in taking 
 a little summer excursion, had stumbled upon them, and 
 arranged to join them just for two or three weeks. This was 
 his own account, and there was, of course, no reason to doubt 
 it. Myra was too pleased to see him to inquire particularly 
 why, or from whence he came. Her own impressions about 
 Rosamond would, indeed, have been a sufficient reason to 
 account for his following them, but, strange to say, these 
 impressions had lately been much shaken. Rosamond might 
 flirt with Mr. Verney, and she did flirt with him, every day, 
 and all day long, trying all kinds of wiles, and graces, and
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 199 
 
 manoeuvres to attract his attention ; but though he responded, 
 as he always did, by a light badinage for the moment, he had 
 long fits of grave abstraction, and even depression, from which 
 no effort could raise him. Myra was very sorry for him ; 
 she saw so plainly that he was an unhappy man, and often, 
 in her earnestness and simplicity, she said things which 
 seemed to touch him ; but if ever for one instant he alluded 
 to any secret care, the next he was sure to turn off what he 
 had said into something which, if not a joke, had a tone of 
 irony in it. And he was so restless also, always advising that 
 they should move from place to place — always finding some 
 reason for a change of plans which had been carefully made, 
 and then, after a discussisn, returning to them again. It was 
 as though he planned merely for the sake of planning. Myra 
 did not exactly dislike all this. It excited her interest, and 
 awakened a kind of romance in her own mind. She fancied 
 that perhaps he was doubtful of Rosamond's feelings, and 
 that this made him unhappy ; and she often tried to divert 
 his thoughts, by talking to him about the things which in- 
 terested him, art especially. Their stay in Munich had been 
 a delightful lesson in this way. They had gone regularly 
 every day to the gallery, and he had pointed out the pictures 
 which she had so often heard him describe, and showed her 
 where lay their beauties and defects. This seemed to be his 
 chief enjoyment, and it was very flattering to Myra. She 
 lived in the reflected light of Mr. Verney's talent, and the 
 self-appreciation in which originally she had been almost 
 painfully wanting, was fostered so as to give her ease and 
 confidence in society, whilst Mr. Verney's remarks, with her 
 own comments, enabled her to be agreeable in the family 
 party. Myra was unconscious of the mode in which she 
 was being educated, but she felt the results, and it was 
 scarcely possible, under such circumstances, to look at Mr. 
 Verney with unprejudiced eyes. And of late he had been 
 careful to do nothing which could in any way shock her 
 conscientiousness. Before they left London he had tried to 
 make her of use to him, to employ her as a medium for 
 gaining information which might be useful, but now he asked
 
 200 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 no question about Yare, he never referred to Miss Medley's 
 illness, or made even common inquiries as to the news re- 
 ceived from Mrs. Patty or Dr. Kingsbury. All that was gone 
 by, and, as it seemed, forgotten, and whatever might be the 
 subject of his preoccupied thought, Myra was in no way made 
 a sharer in it. 
 
 And in one important respect Mr. Verney was an invaluable 
 assistance. It is almost a proverb, that nothing brings out 
 temper and disposition like travelling, and Myra had gained 
 a considerable experience of the truth of the saying since she 
 left England. Rosamond was no help to her in keeping up 
 her father's spirits, or in waiting upon her mother; she was 
 always either 'awfully tired,' or had a 'tremendous head- 
 ache,' when they reached the end of a long journey, and it 
 was absolutely necessary that she should have a quiet room, 
 and go to bed soon. And then, in the morning she was so 
 ' frightfully sleepy ' that it was impossible to be up in time to 
 assist any one ; in fact she required all the aid which could be 
 spared for herself. If they were in a quiet place, Rosamond 
 was ' bored to death,' and thought the Germans the most 
 uninteresting people in the world, and wondered from morn- 
 ing till night why any one should take the trouble to come 
 abroad. If they were in a gay place, she was equally 'bored' 
 with sight-seeing, and thought every moment wasted which 
 was not spent in the public promenades. Rosamond, in fact, 
 was Myra's great care. Mrs. Cameron, feeling better in health, 
 was willing to enjoy the novelty, and was much less fretful than 
 she had been at home ; but, till Mr. Verney appeared, Rosa- 
 mond's discontent had been a canker-worm to the pleasure of 
 the party. 
 
 Now, however, all was sunshine. They had settled them- 
 selves at Ischl for a week, possibly a fortnight, for Godfrey 
 had pertinaciously insisted upon the necessity of seeing the 
 Salzkammergut ; and Mr. Cameron, determined and self-de- 
 pendent when brought in contact with ordinary people, always 
 succumbed to the will of his elder son, as being the reflection of 
 his own superiority. Ischl was likely to prove by no means 
 a bad choice, or at least it would not be so if only the weather
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 201 
 
 would be favourable. But the fate of travellers in mountainous 
 countries seemed likely to follow them, and they were waiting 
 now, day after day, in the hope that a clear sky would admit 
 of an expedition to Aussee, Gosau, and Ilallstadt. In the 
 meantime Myra had been carried off by some old friends of 
 Mr. Cameron's, who had taken a house for three months on 
 the Lake of St. Wolfgang, and the novelty alone would have 
 been delightful to her. But the house at St. Wolfgang had 
 a charm peculiar to itself. It had once formed part of the 
 convent, and was built upon the very edge of the lake, and 
 the water washed the walls of the building. The garden ex- 
 tended along a steep ridge at the foot of the mountain, and 
 in the short summer months was filled with the rarest and 
 richest flowers and shrubs of a southern land ; the mighty 
 walls, the rocks, forests, and alps of the Schaffberg, forming 
 its background ; and the blue lake, the white hamlets, and the 
 encircling mountains, with their deep glens and recesses — 
 creating an ever-changing view around it. To Myra it was 
 a Paradise, and for one day Mr. Verney had been there to 
 enjoy it with her. For one day only. Rosamond's face when 
 he accepted Colonel Hensman's invitation was sufficient, so 
 Myra thought, to prevent him from staying longer. Probably 
 Mr. Verney was flattered by it, at any rate he immediately 
 assured Mrs. Cameron that he should go over only for one day, 
 and Rosamond was bright and gracious as rris reward. 
 
 Myra had watched this little scene as she watched many, 
 making her own comments upon them, and drawing from them 
 her own conclusions. But she had no one to show her whether 
 those conclusions were right. She had read of love in books, 
 and had formed an ideal of it in her own mind. What she 
 now saw was very unlike what she had fancied, and at times 
 it sorely perplexed her ; but it did not shake her conviction. 
 Unless Rosamond cared for Mr. Verney she could not make 
 such direct efforts to attract him. Unless Mr. Verney cared 
 for Rosamond he would not be so marked in his attentions, 
 and so desirous to meet her wishes. These were to Myra self- 
 evident facts. She was herself so essentially sincere in every 
 word and action, whether good or bad, that a mockery of feel-
 
 ~c>2 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ing was something utterly beyond her powers of comprehen- 
 sion • whilst her vivid imagination intensified every indication 
 of interest, and deepened every expression of pleasure, till 
 Rosamond felt as she would have felt, and Mr. Verney loved 
 as she would wish to be loved. Why then should there be 
 any delay ? Why any mystery or doubt ? Above all. why 
 were her father and mother so blind to what was passing 
 before them ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 When Mr. Verney left Myra, he crossed the open square by 
 the church, and lingered in front of the inn. 
 
 Part of the strangers' luggage was still in the entrance, and 
 he carelessly examined it, asking at the same time a few ques- 
 tions of the landlord, who, with a cigar in his mouth, was 
 standing by, giving orders for its removal. 
 
 They were very short questions, and put with a haughty 
 nonchalance, which had the effect of checking any familiarity 
 on the part of the landlord ; but Mr. Verney learnt from them 
 that the strangers were travelling alone, and were likely to 
 remain at St. Wolfgang for several days. They had ordered 
 dinner, and one of the ladies had been out, but was just re- 
 turned ; the other was too ill to see any one. 
 
 Mr. Verney replied to this hint by taking out a card, writing 
 a few words upon the back, and desiring that it might be given 
 to Mrs. Tracy instantly, and as the man rather sulkily obeyed, 
 he followed him up the stairs to the ante-room. 
 
 The public salon was silent, for the party who had Deen 
 dining in it had betaken themselves to the open air, and their 
 noisy voices might be heard as they shouted and sang in the 
 garden at the back of the house. The room smelt of smoke ; 
 plates, dishes, and drinking cups were left upon the table. 
 There could have been no place less agreeable for a private
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 203 
 
 interview, but it was Mr. Verney's only resource ; and after 
 hearing the answer brought back to his note — that the lady 
 would see him as soon as possible — he sat down on a wooden 
 bench waiting her arrival. 
 
 The dreamy, indifferent look was gone from his face now, 
 and in its stead there was an expression of struggling feeling 
 which seemed to make the delay even of those few moments 
 almost intolerable to him. He rose at last, and went to the 
 door, as if determined to go without having obtained the inter- 
 view he had requested ; but just then Mrs. Tracy appeared 
 from the opposite side of the ante-room, and Mr. Verney, 
 recovering himself, went forward to meet her, with the cool, 
 easy, rather languid manner which never forsook him in the 
 presence of others. 
 
 They met as old and intimate friends, or perhaps not really 
 friends ; Mrs. Tracy's face was much more expressive of her 
 feelings than Mr. Verney's, and no one who looked at her could 
 suppose that she was pleased to see him. Surprised and ex- 
 cited she evidently was, and her first words were those common 
 to all persons under such circumstances : ' Where did you 
 come from ? How did you know we were here ? ' 
 
 Mr. Verney's reply was short and matter-of-fact. ' I have 
 been travelling with some friends. I did not expect you here, 
 but I thought I saw you at St. Gilgen.' 
 
 ' Then you have not come purposely to meet us ? ' was Mrs. 
 Tracy's disappointed question. 
 
 ' Purposely ? not exactly. But you say nothing of Char- 
 lotte.' 
 
 'She is very ill — worse.' They sat down, and there was a 
 pause. 
 
 Mr. Verney bent his eyes upon the ground, and said, ' How 
 long has she been worse ? ' 
 
 ' For about a fortnight. The voyage did her good, and 
 when we landed at Trieste I was hopeful about her. There 
 we had your letter saying that it was better we should not go 
 to England, and since then she has failed rapidly.' 
 
 ' I said what was best for her,' he replied ; and his voice
 
 20+ A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 somewhat faltered. ' She needs amusement ; in England she 
 would only have care.' 
 
 ' Charlotte does not dread care,' said Mrs. Tracy drily. 
 
 ' Still it is better she should delay. You must travel during 
 the summer months, and then go to Italy.' 
 
 ' And you will be with us ? ' 
 
 Mr. Verney looked up suddenly. ' I thought I had explained 
 everything in my letter. You heard from me at Vienna?' 
 
 ' Our only letters have been those which we found at Trieste. 
 I took Charlotte from thence to Venice. It was the only place 
 in which she was interested ; and we have travelled by Milan 
 and Innsbruck.' 
 
 Mr. Verney looked excessively annoyed. ' I reckoned upon 
 your going at once to Vienna,' he said ; ' I wrote there and 
 told you everything.' 
 
 ' Everything ! And what is everything, Mr. Verney ? ' ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Tracy indignantly. ' Be so good as to let me 
 hear as quickly as possible ; Charlotte is very ill, and does 
 not know why I have left her, and I must return to her im- 
 
 J 7 
 
 mediately.' 
 
 ' My dear madam, calm yourself. It is a long story, but 
 I will endeavour to shorten it. Whatever I may say, one thing 
 you cannot doubt, that my affection is unaltered.' 
 
 ' Mr. Verney, I do doubt it,' was the reply. ' No man with 
 true love in his heart could trifle as you have trifled with that 
 poor child for the last twelvemonths. I have said it to my 
 brother-in-law again and again, and now I say it to you.' 
 
 'Then you do me a grievous injustice, Mrs. Tracy. As there 
 is a God in heaven, I love your niece better than I have ever 
 loved, or ever could love, any woman.' 
 
 ' And why is she not your wife ? ' 
 
 ' Answer the question for yourself,' he exclaimed. ' You 
 know all the difficulties, the obstacles which have been put 
 in our way. You know the condition of your brother-in-law's 
 affairs — the risks I have run to help him, and the shattered 
 condition of my health, which, independent of business, neces- 
 sitated a return to England.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 205 
 
 ' But you have been in England now several months, and 
 my brother's affairs ' 
 
 ' Arc in a worse condition than ever,' interrupted Mr. Verney 
 moodily. 
 
 ' Be it so,' was the answer. ' Then see Charlotte yourself 
 and tell her the truth.' 
 
 ' I cannot,' he exclaimed ; ' I should kill her.' 
 
 ' You arc killing her now ; yes, Mr. Verney, killing her, as 
 surely as ever man killed woman, by suspense and disappoint- 
 ment. You urged her leaving India, on the plea that when 
 once in England together, and the health of both re-established, 
 you might jointly consult and arrange for your marriage. That 
 was the pretence — I repeat it, the pretence — it could have been 
 no reality ; your present conduct proves it. She obeyed, and 
 now she is told to travel during the summer, and to spend the 
 winter in Italy. Mr. Verney, what does it mean? As you are 
 a man of honour, and a gentleman, I insist upon receiving an 
 explanation.' 
 
 ' As you will, dear Mrs. Tracy. This excitement distresses 
 me ; indeed, it is uncalled for. You will see it when I have 
 explained myself.' 
 
 ' God grant that I may ! ' was the muttered reply, and Mr. 
 Verney continued — 
 
 ' You know that I came to England partly for health, partly 
 that I might look after your brother-in-law's affairs, in which 
 my own were unfortunately involved. I made no mystery of 
 the matter to you, but I did not wish it talked of to others ; 
 neither did I desire my engagement with Charlotte to be gene- 
 rally known. There were family reasons for this ; the marriage 
 would be uncongenial to my own relations. I told Charlotte 
 so, and she understood it. They are proud ; they would have 
 put obstacles in my path. I hoped to see my way quickly 
 and clearly, but I was disappointed. Stuart mismanaged his 
 business grievously — that I need scarcely say to you. His 
 affairs became more and more desperate. He wrote to me te 
 raise money, and I knew no way of doing it, except as he him- 
 self had suggested, by applying to his aunt. It was entirely
 
 206 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 contrary to my wishes, but I had no alternative ; I did apply 
 to her ; I suppose you know the result ? ' 
 
 ' I know nothing,' replied Mrs. Tracy. ' We left India before 
 we could have heard anything, even if my brother-in-law had 
 chosen to be communicative, which he never does choose.' 
 
 ' The poor old lady has become imbecile, or worse,' con- 
 tinued Mr. Verney. ' She had a severe illness, which fell on 
 the brain. She may live for years, but she cannot recover. 
 Thus the assistance which I thought would be forthcoming is 
 unattainable. Stuart is by this time a ruined man.' 
 
 ' He has long been so,' was Mrs. Tracy's quiet reply. 
 
 Mr. Verney looked at her in astonishment. Then he said 
 as quietly : ' So you may have thought, and so I may have 
 thought, but so the world has not thought — and that makes 
 all the difference.' 
 
 'The difference as to your marriage with his daughter,' said 
 Mrs. Tracy bitterly.; 
 
 'You are hard upon me,' he replied. ' It is a question of 
 possibility ; our marriage at the present moment would be 
 madness.' 
 
 ' Mr. Verney, I am not hard upon you,' said Mrs. Tracy. 
 ' I see your difficulties, and I feel for you — or, I could feel 
 for you if you would be open. You say all this to me — why 
 do you not say it to Charlotte ? ' 
 
 ' In her state it would be cruel ; but time will help us.' 
 
 ' Time will not help us, and God will not help us, if we do 
 not help ourselves,' exclaimed Mrs. Tracy indignantly. ' I 
 tell you, Mr. Verney — and it is the result of a bitter experience 
 — that if there is one wrong greater than another of which men 
 are guilty towards the women whom they profess to love — be 
 they mothers, sisters, or wives, it is that of shrinking from 
 inflicting necessary pain. Tell us the worst, and we can beat- 
 it bravely; be true and open with us, and we will honour and 
 obey you to the very last moment of existence ; but, keep back 
 from us anything which we have a right to know, or, what is 
 far worse, give us a half-confidence when we ought to have a 
 whole, and we are paralysed ; we lose our trust, and with
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 207 
 
 it our strength. So you will surely find it to be with Char- 
 lotte.' 
 
 ' Very possibly,' he replied ; ' and yet it may not suit mc to 
 tell the whole. Every man, Mrs. Tracy, is the best judge of 
 the necessities which guide his own conduct.' 
 
 ' Then I am to understand that we are to go on as we have 
 been going on for the last year, in suspense — a suspense which 
 acts as a slow but most sure poison. Mr. Verncy, are you a 
 Christian and a gentleman, and can you allow this ?' 
 
 ' I trust I have not lost all claim to either title, dear madam. 
 As a Christian and a gentleman, and, what is more, one wlio 
 most truly loves your niece, I believe that I am doing that 
 which is best, both for her and for myself.' 
 
 ' Then you do not know her,' exclaimed Mrs. Tracy. ' Her 
 strongest support is the obligation of duty ; and, ill as she is, 
 if you will plainly set before her the impossibility of her mar- 
 riage at present, and the need that she should devote herself 
 to her father, she will at once face her position, and find a 
 stimulus in the effort she is compelled to make which will 
 strengthen her both physically and morally ; only let me en- 
 treat you not to be afraid.' 
 
 ' 1 am afraid,' was the reply. 
 
 And Mrs. Tracy murmured, in an accent of scarcely con- 
 cealed scorn, 'Yes ; I have known that from the beginning.' 
 
 ' I am afraid,' he continued, ' because I know what a sudden 
 shock might do ; and, moreover, I do not see the necessity. 
 You must forgive me for saying that, in such cases as these, a 
 woman's impetuous feeling can scarcely be considered a safe 
 guide.' 
 
 ' The impetuous feeling has endured a long time,' replied 
 Mrs. Tracy sarcastically. ' I ask of you merely what Char- 
 lotte and 1 have been asking of my brother-in-law ever since it 
 first dawned upon us that his affairs were embarrassed. Month 
 after month we have begged to know everything, and been told 
 that we did know it, and then found that something was still 
 in the background. So we have both lost all trust and all 
 heart. It is this which has preyed upon Charlotte's health, 
 and brought her into her present condition ■ and this same
 
 2oS A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 distrust has operated in your own case. You are indeed afraid 
 of giving pain, Mr. Verney, but it is pain to yourself. You 
 sin ink from inflicting the stroke of the dagger, because you 
 must witness the momentary suffering j but you have no hesi- 
 tation in administering the slow poison, because you can hide 
 your eyes from the lingering agony.' 
 
 Mr. Verney rose suddenly. His lip quivered, as he said, 
 ' God forgive me for inflicting either ! You must not tell her 
 I have been here.' 
 
 ' And are you going ? You refuse to see her ? ' 
 
 'I cannot; I dare not. She shall hear from me.' 
 
 Mrs. Tracy seized his hand. ' Mr. Verney, you must see 
 her ! I will be no party to such conduct. She is dying — 
 dying of hope deferred.' 
 
 ' Which will be hope made hopeless when she has seen me. 
 Take her to Vienna ; give her change, comfort. Let her expect 
 my letters — they shall not fail ; and, believe me, I will prepare 
 her.' 
 
 ' For what ? For the termination of her engagement ? ' 
 
 ' I do not say so. I can tell nothing at present. What- 
 ever I resolve upon, her happiness will be my first considera- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' And why have you come now ? ' exclaimed Mrs. Tracy. 
 
 ' Because I acted, as you would act, upon impulse,' he 
 replied bitterly. ' I would not have you remain here, and I 
 came to say so.' 
 
 ' Then we have wasted many unnecessary words,' was the 
 cold reply. ' But your mind may be at rest upon that point. No 
 place can be more unfit than this for a sick girl's resting-place. 
 I find that the friends whom we expected to meet are away. 
 They have let their house to strangers, and we have no in- 
 ducement to remain. I would, indeed, that I could go this 
 very night.' 
 
 ' Let me know how you can be made more comfortable,' ex- 
 claimed Mr. Verney. ' Tell me in what I can help you. Let 
 me arrange for your journey back to Vienna.' 
 
 ' We do not go to Vienna ; I shall take Charlotte to Ischl.' 
 
 Mr. Verney's countenance changed, as he answered hastily,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 209 
 
 'But you must not ! It is very undesirable. She ought to be 
 where every comfort can be procured for her. I know nothing 
 of the physicians at Ischl. Promise me that you will return 
 to Vienna.' 
 
 ' I promise nothing, Mr. Verney. I consider myself in no 
 way bound to you.' 
 
 ' But it is madness ! I could not answer for the conse- 
 quences. And you are travelling alone, without a servant!' 
 
 ' We travel as we can afford. You forget that we arc a 
 ruined family, with nothing to depend upon but my own small 
 income.' 
 
 ' I must provide for that,' he exclaimed, and his sallow face 
 flushed. ' I had no idea of such a state of things.' 
 
 ' You need not distress yourself about us. Charlotte is 
 Independent in her habits, and the language is my only 
 difficulty.' 
 
 'Mrs. Tracy,' exclaimed Mr. Verney, 'this is cruel on your 
 part. You know how earnestly I desire that Charlotte should 
 have every luxury — how gladly, how thankfully I would pro- 
 vide all ' 
 
 ' That is fitted for a dying person. Rest of mind may, 
 perhaps, be the one thing needful. Mr. Verney, good night, 
 and good-bye. We are not likely to meet again. I thank 
 you for having at length enlightened me.' 
 
 He detained the hand which was laid coldly in his, and said 
 hesitatingly : ' Let me remind you, my own letters must tell 
 my tale. I trust implicitly to your honour.' 
 
 Mrs. Tracy merely withdrew her hand, and without another 
 word left the apartment.
 
 2io A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 1 The Doctor won't come downstairs to-day, Faith,' said Mrs. 
 Patty, as she beckoned Faith into the study, and pointed to 
 a pile of books heaped one upon another on the floor. ' I 
 think if you and I were to set about it, we might do something 
 towards putting things straight.' 
 
 ' If the Doctor will allow it, ma'am ; but he scolded dreadful 
 the last time Betsey and I touched his books.' 
 
 ' The Doctor never scolds, Faith ; but he likes to have me 
 present when his books are handled. Poor dear, he is as 
 careful of them as if they were babies.' 
 
 ' More careful a great deal,' was Faith's reply, ' seeing he 
 would never let a drabby girl wheel his books about in a 
 barrow, as babies are wheeled about in these days. It is a 
 wonder to me that they are not half of them murdered. But, 
 Mrs. Patty, if you will just leave the books to me, I will be 
 special particular about them.' 
 
 ' He won't be satisfied, Faith, and I can't bear to cross 
 him. He thinks a good deal of his books now he is kept 
 upstairs.' 
 
 'Ay, and to my mind he is likely to think a good deal 
 more,' replied Faith. ' It will be a long day, Mrs. Patty, 
 before we see him down again.' 
 
 'Mr. Harrison considers him better,' said Mrs. Patty, 'and 
 he ate a whole mutton-chop yesterday.' 
 
 ' A chop about the size of a five-shilling piece, ma'am,' 
 answered Faith. 'As I said to Betsey, there is nothing differs 
 more than chops, and it's no use to deceive oneself about it.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty sat herself down on a high leather-covered 
 stool, rested her hands on her knees, and looked straight 
 before her. 
 
 Faith bustled about the room, taking up papers and writ- 
 ing materials, and putting them down again, moving chairs, 
 and brushing away dust with a duster, and every now and
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 21 1 
 
 then glancing at her mistress. Not a word was spoken by 
 either, till Faith approached the folio volume of St. Augustine, 
 which lay near the Doctor's desk. Then one large tear rolled 
 slowly down Mrs. Patty's check, and she rose and said, ' I will 
 dust that myself, Faith,' and taking the cloth from Faith's 
 hand, she moved it slowly over the book, wiping away every 
 separate particle of dust, and rubbing the cover where it 
 needed no rubbing, Faith all the while standing by waiting 
 for her duster. Seeing at length that she was not likely 
 to have it, she went out of the room to fetch another, and 
 Mrs. Patty sat down again in the Doctor's arm-chair, and 
 clasping her hands tightly together, murmured something 
 which sounded like a prayer. When Faith returned Mrs. 
 Patty was gone to her own room, but she was there only for 
 a few minutes. When she came back she was cheerful again, 
 and said that she had looked in upon the Doctor, and found 
 him comfortable. He wanted to know if the post was come ; 
 so she would take him the letters if there were any, and then 
 return and settle what was to be done about cleaning the study. 
 
 ' The postman ought to have been here ten minutes ago,' 
 said Faith. ' I wonder why Betsey has not brought the letters 
 in. Not but what master will be better without them, Mrs. 
 Patty. They do but worry him since he has had so much to 
 do for that poor daft Miss Medley.' 
 
 'It is all settled now,' said Mrs. Pattv, 'or it will be soon. 
 
 7 * 7 ' 
 
 Mr. Cameron and the Doctor have found a person who will 
 be kind to her. and look after her.' 
 
 'The Doctor has done it, you mean, ma'am,' said Faith. 
 1 Mr. Cameron would have been of little use without him. 
 Anyhow, it's a blessing that the poor lady has some friends. 
 People say it was just a Providence that she lost her senses 
 when she did, for she knew so little how to use them that she 
 was always making away with her little money to help her 
 relations out in India. So she would have been ruined if she 
 had not been stopped in time. But there's always good comes 
 out of evil.' 
 
 'Always, Faith,' said Mrs. Patty emphatically, 'but go and 
 ask for the letters ; vour master is waiting. ' 
 
 7 * O
 
 2i2 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Faith brought back a tolerably large packet, which Mrs. 
 Patty looked through, putting aside those which she knew 
 concerned domestic matters, and pondering over others as if 
 doubtful whether or not to take them upstairs. Faith picked 
 up one which had fallen on the ground. ' Here is the best 
 of all, Mrs. Patty — a foreign letter. That will be sure to do 
 you good, and the Doctor too.' 
 
 ' From my little Myra,' said Mrs. Patty, in a tone of quiet 
 satisfaction, and she examined the paper, the post-mark, the 
 stamp, as persons do who have time to wonder at the fact 
 that the letter they now hold in their hands has been only 
 a few days before held in the hands of a person in a foreign 
 land hundreds of miles off. ' She writes a good clear hand ; 
 that is a comfort. Just take the other letters up, Faith, and 
 let me slay here a minute, and look through this ; or stop, 
 x l will take them myself, and you go now; never mind the 
 books.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty was evidently not quite certain of her own mind, 
 but Faith was, so she carried the Doctor's letters to him upon 
 her own responsibility, and left Mrs. Patty to decipher Myra's 
 communication. 
 
 ' My dearest Mrs. Patty, — I could make a great many 
 excuses for not having written before, but they will take up my 
 time and my paper, and I feel sure you will not require them. 
 We have settled ourselves at Ischl, an out-of-the way fashion- 
 able place in Austria. I never heard of it till Godfrey talked 
 of it, but every one in Austria thinks a great deal about it, and 
 as the Emperor is often here, there are hotels, and good houses, 
 and everything to make one comfortable. 
 
 ' Mamma has been better ever since we left Munich, and we 
 should all like Ischl extremely but for the bad weather. I think 
 I told you that Mr. Verney joined us at Munich. He has been 
 with us ever since, and it has been quite delightful having him. 
 He knows everything, and amuses papa, and he is more kind 
 t > me than I can say ; and as for Rosamond, I cannot think 
 what she will do without him, for indeed I am quite certain 
 that they like each other extremely, though, perhaps, I ought
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 213 
 
 not to say it, as you told me one day it was better not to talk 
 about such things. Mr. Vcrney is a great assistance also in 
 enabling us to understand the particular beauty of this country. 
 He has travelled so much that he can compare it with others. 
 He says that it has not the grandeur of Switzerland, but th.it 
 no other scenery ever gave him such a sense of enchantment. 
 Ucrchtesgaden and the Kftnig See, to which we made an ex- 
 cursion from Salzburg, were quite perfect. We drove for miles 
 and miles, and every change in the position of the hills formed a 
 new view, which one felt as if one would fain carry away, stored 
 up as a treasure of beauty in one's memory. There were fore- 
 grounds of rocks and banks, covered with flowers and moss ; 
 middle grounds of the most beautiful trees, planted as if they 
 had been especially laid out in a gentleman's park ; and back- 
 grounds of cliff and mountain-tops, to say nothing of torrents 
 rushing down the mountains, and the Konig See, shut in by 
 walls of cliffs, rising so immediately from the water's edge 
 that there was not room even for a pathway. One walk I 
 shall never forget. We were stopping to rest the horses at 
 a little village called Insel; it had been raining all the morn- 
 ing, and we were rather out of spirits and disheartened because 
 of the weather, but at last it cleared up, and Mr. Verney pro- 
 posed to Rosamond and me to go out with him, and in spite 
 of the mud we set off. Insel is a tiny village in a valley, with 
 great hills, woods, and gorges all round. Glorious effects 
 there were with the clouds clearing off the hills, but the 
 loveliest thimr of all was the wood, to which we made our 
 way. It was all I have fancied a wood might be, when I 
 have been reading fairy talcs and romances — glades and rocks, 
 most beautiful trees — beeches, sycamores, larches, firs, — and a 
 complete carpet of moss, and flowers, and wood strawberries, 
 which it was almost a sin to walk upon ; whilst between the 
 branches of the trees and the openings in the wood there 
 were glimpses of the valley and the huge grim rocks towering 
 over it. We sat down on a rock to rest, and, oh ! Mrs. Patty, 
 it really was Paradise. 
 
 'As Mr. Verney says, "What one especially feels here is 
 the lavishness of the beauty." It is not that one goes to see
 
 214 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 a lovely spot but a lovely country, which is perfect even in its 
 minutest detail. Rosamond declares that I am always sermon- 
 ising about it, but I hope it is only that I feel thankful for it. 
 Mr. Verney quoted that line from Keats the other day — 
 
 ' A thing of beauty is a joy for ever ; ' 
 
 and, certainly, the sight of the Bavarian Alps will be a joy to 
 me till the last day of my life. 
 
 ' I am staying now at a lovely place near Ischl, a house 
 which Colonel Hensman (you know Mrs. Hensman is a cousin 
 of mamma's) has taken for some months on the lake of St. Wolf- 
 gang. It is about seven miles from Ischl. The house was part 
 of a convent and joins the old church, and there is a gallery 
 in it from which one can look down into the church. The 
 grounds are exquisite ; so beautiful that the Emperor of Austria 
 and his friends often go over from Ischl to see them. They are 
 close to the lake, and the mountains rise above them — real 
 mountains, one (the Schaffberg) more than 5000 feet high ; 
 but it is very cold here in winter, and, indeed, for a great part 
 of the year ; and though there are all kinds of lovely rare 
 shrubs and flowers they can only be left out a very little while. 
 Colonel and Mrs. Hensman brought me over the day before 
 yesterday, and I was to have stayed till Saturday. Mr. Verney 
 came over yesterday for the day, and we were very happy row 
 ing on the lake and walking about the beautiful grounds. He 
 went back to Ischl in the evening, but he said nothing about 
 leaving us, so you may imagine how disappointed I was when 
 this morning, just as Mrs. Hensman was planning what we 
 should do for the day, a messenger came from Ischl saying 
 that I must go back directly, for that all the plans were altered 
 because of Mr. Verney's being obliged to go away almost 
 immediately, and that we were to drive over to Aussee to- 
 morrow morning and sleep, and see some lakes in the neigh- 
 bourhood, so that Mr. Verney might have the pleasure of 
 being with us, and after that he would go, and Edmund would 
 join us. I feel very ungrateful at not being pleased, but it 
 entirely upsets all my own plans, and Mr. Verney's going is 
 a terrible blank. I cannot help thinking that we shall leave
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 215 
 
 Ischl whenever he does, for papa really does not know how to 
 get on without him. I shall not much care where we go if this 
 should be arranged, for I enjoy everything, and much as I like 
 the idea of staying at St. Wolfgang, I do not like being away 
 from our own party. Ischl itself is very beautifully situated, 
 with mountains all round it, but it is too fashionable to please 
 me. There is an English service on Sundays, held in some 
 room hired by the landlord of the chief hotel, and fitted up 
 expressly for the purpose. This of course is very satisfactory, 
 though papa says it is only a speculation of the landlord's to 
 attract the English guests. The English clergyman sat near 
 us at the table d'hote the first day we dined there, and told 
 us that the landlord gave him his rooms free of cost, and that 
 he considered it his business to entertain the English guests ; 
 and then he began telling us who all the people were who were 
 present. We went to the service on Sunday. There was 
 Holy Communion, and before the offertory, notice was given 
 that the collection would be made to defray the expenses the 
 landlord had incurred in fitting up the room, and we were 
 told besides that the hour for the afternoon service would 
 be altered to suit the landlord's two tables d'/iSle. I really felt 
 quite glad that Mr. Verney was not there to hear it, for he 
 cannot help turning such things into ridicule. I can't laugh 
 at them myself, they only give me pain, for they seem so irre- 
 verent. That is the one point upon which Mr. Verney and 
 I cannot agree. He never cares about going to these English 
 chapels and services ; he says he can be much more devout 
 when he is wandering about amidst beautiful scenery, and I 
 daresay he may be right, only it seems strange. He likes 
 Roman Catholic services, though ; at least, he likes to look on 
 and to hear the music ; but then he says plainly that he only 
 goes to them as he does to the opera. Dear Mrs. Patty, these 
 things puzzle me very much, for Mr. Verney must be a good 
 man, he so entirely appreciates everything which is great and 
 noble, and he talks to papa by the hour about plans for doing 
 good in India. 
 
 ' Tuesday afternoon. — I must finish this, and take it with me 
 to Ischl this evening. I am to go back after an early dinner,
 
 216 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 which is not quite what mamma wishes ; for Rosamond wrote 
 me word I was to return directly in the carriage that was sent 
 for me, and Mr. Verney added a little line in her note, begging 
 me not to delay ; but I really could not help it ; Mrs. Hens- 
 man entreated me so much to stay, and help her to take care 
 of some poor English ladies, who are at a very indifferent hotel 
 in the village, and whom she thinks it right to be kind to. 
 They are an aunt and niece, and they are travelling for amuse- 
 ment, and have come here by a kind of accident, hoping to 
 find some friends. Mrs. Tracy is the aunt, Miss Stuart the 
 niece. The latter is very much out of health, but she is quite 
 fascinating in look and manner. I have been sitting with her 
 this morning in a lovely little pavilion in the grounds. It is 
 fitted up most luxuriously, and has windows all round, which 
 command enchanting views of the lake. Mrs. Hensman had 
 Miss Stuart taken there this morning, carried in a chair, for 
 she is too ill to walk, and then she asked me to go to her. 
 You know how shy and awkward I am generally ; but that is 
 when there is no exact reason for doing or saying things ; when 
 I am obliged to put myself forward I can get on pretty well. 
 Miss Stuart was very reserved in manner at first, and rather 
 cold, till something was said about Mrs. Hensman's kindness, 
 and then she was so grateful, her eyes quite sparkled as she 
 spoke of it. They are such lovely eyes, very deep blue, with 
 long eyelashes ; and the eyelids droop over them, and make 
 them still deeper and darker. Their expression is very sad ; 
 they seem to look out into the far distance as if expecting 
 something which never comes. I could not help thinking, as 
 I sat by her this morning, that if I were a painter, I should 
 like to take her as a model for a picture of " Hope deferred, 
 which maketh the heart sick." I really longed to kiss her and 
 comfort her, but I did not dare to talk about anything but 
 commonplace subjects, and these seemed an effort to her. 
 She must have a history attached to her, I am sure ; but I am 
 not likely to know it, for I shall scarcely see her again. They 
 were going away from St. Wolfgang directly ; but I think now 
 they know Mrs. Hensman, they may stay longer. It is such 
 a comfort to them to be near kind people, and to have the use
 
 .1 GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 217 
 
 of the grounds. Mrs. Tracy looks rather bewildered, as if she 
 had no plans and did not know what to do or where to go, and 
 this makes it all the more sad and strange. They seem so 
 very lonely and helpless. I have had an idea in my mind 
 since I saw them, which seems unnatural, and almost impos- 
 sible, but which I should like to be quite sure about. You 
 know Miss Greaves had a dear friend whose name was Stuart, 
 and who went to India ; and I have fancied whether this young 
 lady could be the same. People turn up so very curiously in 
 strange places. I would have asked Miss Stuart herself, only 
 it might have seemed inquisitive. Please let Juliet and An- 
 nette see this letter. I will write to them next time. I send 
 you a very great deal of love, dearest Mrs. Patty, and please 
 give all kinds of respectful and most affectionate remembrances 
 to dear Dr. Kingsbury. Plow I should like to see him, and 
 talk to him ! When you write, pray let me hear all the Yare 
 news. It seems an age since we went away. — Ever your very 
 affectionate young friend, Myra CAMERON.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty laid down the letter, took off her spectacles, sat 
 for a few moments in thought, then put on her spectacles 
 again, and re-read the portion of Myra's communication which 
 referred to Mr. Verney, after which she walked very delibe- 
 rately upstairs to the Doctor's room. 
 
 The old man was sitting in an arm-chair, propped up by 
 cushions. There had been a gradual failing of strength lately, 
 which no one could exactly account for. He felt but little 
 pain, but he had lost his appetite and energy. The symptoms 
 of a general break-up of the constitution were too obvious 
 to be hidden from any eyes but those blinded by affection. 
 Until this day Mrs. Patty had never realised to herself what a 
 change might be at hand. Now, as she entered the room, it 
 struck her how very worn he looked, how his cheeks had fallen 
 in, and how dim his eyes were, and especially how thin and 
 almost white his bony hands had become ; and for an instant 
 forgetting the irritable feeling which had made her hasten to 
 him with Myra's letter, she went up to him, and propped up 
 his pillows, and drew his little table nearer to him, and cleared
 
 2i 8 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 away some papers which were lying upon it. But she could 
 not trust herself to speak to him, till he said — 
 
 'Thank you, Patty; I do very well. Have I had all the 
 letters ? ' 
 
 'AH which were of any consequence, Doctor, dear. There 
 was one I saw from poor Miss Medley's nurse. What does 
 she say of her ? ' 
 
 ' That she is afraid the poor lady grows worse. The change 
 has not been of any use. We must pray, Patty, that God would 
 please to take her home before long/ 
 
 'Ay! indeed we well mav. It is a sore trial for herself 
 and her friends. And what has been settled about the money 
 matters ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Cameron has not written to say if he will subscribe, so 
 I must continue to advance what is necessary.' 
 
 ' It is only doing what you have done all your life,' observed 
 Mrs. Patty, 'advancing for others, and waiting till they think it 
 proper to repay, but there will be the five pounds which Myra 
 told us Mr. Verney would give. I wonder why he wished his 
 name to be kept so secret.' 
 
 ' There may be many good reasons for a man's not wishing 
 his charities to be known/ replied the Doctor. ' And as to 
 myself, Patty, I shall soon be where it will be no grief to me 
 to remember that I spent twenty pounds to provide a nurse for 
 the afflicted lady.' 
 
 'If you are doubtful about Mr. Cameron's directions,' con- 
 tinued Mrs. Patty, ' I can help you now ; for I have a letter 
 from little Myra ; shall I read it to you ? ' 
 
 ' She is a good little girl, Patty, and I shall thank you very 
 much ; but I think I will move to the sofa first. I don't wish 
 to be restless and troublesome, but I am. And lest I should 
 forget it, will you take charge of those clothing-club tickets, 
 and give them to Mr. Baines. I have signed them, but my hand 
 shakes greatly/ 
 
 So did Mrs. Patty's as she gathered up the cards on which 
 were traced the scarcely legible characters which had once 
 been written so firmly. She moved the Doctor to the sofa, 
 refusing to ring for Faith to help her, and then, when she had
 
 A GLIMPSE OF TUB WORLD. 219 
 
 made him, as lie said, so comfortable that he desired to thank 
 God for it, she sat down by him and read out Myra's letter, 
 to which he listened with the fullest attention, interrupting 
 Mrs. Patty's slow and emphatic reading, whenever he missed a 
 word, with the request that she would be so good as to repeat 
 that once more. 
 
 When she had ended, he said, ' Little Myra has a feeling 
 heart, Patty, and she is much touched with that poor young 
 lady's sorrow. May God keep her from much of her own, for 
 I fear she would sink under it.' 
 
 'She is likely to have a good deal, I am afraid, Doctor,' 
 replied Mrs. Patty, as she carefully refolded the letter, and 
 placed it in the envelope. ' She gives her heart so soon to 
 people who are kind to her, and I don't know what to say to 
 her about it, because her parents don't see things as I do. I 
 do wish she did not like Mr. Verney quite so much.' 
 
 ' She is very grateful to him for his kindness, and she will 
 be very fond of him if he marries her sister,' replied the Doctor. 
 ' It all seems to me, Patty, quite natural, though I could wish 
 that Mr. Verney was more settled in his religious views.' 
 
 'Ah, Doctor ! you are a man, and never see anything but 
 what lies straight before you, which, no doubt, is good and 
 best, and the reason why men go through the world more 
 quietly than women can. But what I should like to know, first 
 of all, is whether Mr. Verney really does care for Rosamond 
 Cameron, and if he does why he can't speak out at once.' 
 
 ' Myra is discriminating, and appears to have no doubt of 
 his feelings,' replied the Doctor. 
 
 ' But she does not seem to me wise enough to take heed to 
 her own,' replied Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' I do not understand you, Patty. Even if Rosamond 
 Cameron and Mr. Verney were not attached to each other, as 
 it appears they are, Myra would never care for a man so much 
 older than herself.' 
 
 ' Perhaps not care for him in the way of falling in love with 
 him, though I would never answer for that, as time goes on, 
 if they were thrown much together. But what would be worse 
 than falling in love with hiin would be that she might take it
 
 220 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 into her head to marry him from pity and romance. There 
 is a great deal of romance in this letter, Doctor, and I don't 
 like it. Many a woman has sacrificed her happiness from no 
 stronger feelinsr.' 
 
 ' Patty, my dear, you trouble yourself about things which will 
 never come to pass. Little Myra is pleased and happy, and I 
 see no reason why she should not be.' 
 
 ' But, Doctor, dear, answer me one question. Should you 
 be satisfied if she were to marry Mr. Verney ? ' 
 
 ' By no means. He has no fixed principles, and is much 
 too old. I should consider it most undesirable.' 
 
 ' Then,' exclaimed Mrs. Patty, ' I don't quite see how you 
 or any one can wish her to be pleased, and happy, and full of 
 romance about a man whom you could never bear to see her 
 husband.' 
 
 ' Because I am sure he never will be,' was the reply. 
 
 ' Ah, Doctor ! that is looking straight before you ; but it 
 strikes me there is something at the side. Suppose she never 
 should marry him, which God grant she may not, and which I 
 don't pretend to say is likely, seeing he appears to have set his 
 heart on Rosamond ; yet if she should go on romancing about 
 him, and admiring him, surely she will become like him.' 
 
 ' Not so, Patty. Little Myra has an honest heart, and a 
 clear head, and God is her guide and protector. She will open 
 her eyes as time goes on ; she is a child now.' 
 
 'And that will be a grievous day,' said Mrs. Patty mourn- 
 fully.' 
 
 ' It is what we must all come to, Patty, as we travel through 
 this disappointing world.' 
 
 ' It is not what I ever came to,' exclaimed Mrs. Patty. ' I 
 had my romance of respect when I was a child, Doctor, dear, 
 and it was about you, and I have never seen cause to alter it, 
 and it has kept me up and given me strength when things 
 were so trying about me that if it had not been for that, I 
 should have sunk quite. You must not measure women by 
 men, Doctor. They were not made to stand alone, and when 
 they lean and the reed breaks, ten to one but they fall to the 
 ground; and that is my fear for Myra.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 221 
 
 •Nay, Patty. We must not doubt God's Providence over 
 her.' 
 
 ' Yet, Doctor, the old proverb says that God helps those 
 who help themselves. Whereas it strikes me that in these 
 days fathers and mothers fancy that God will do everything 
 in the way of taking care of their children, and they are to 
 do nothing. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Cameron approve of Mr. 
 Verney. Mrs. Cameron herself as good as told me she would 
 not on any account have Rosamond marry him, and yet she 
 allows them to be together just as much as if they were en- 
 gaged. The world is a puzzle to me, Doctor, and it grows 
 more so every day.' 
 
 ' Because you do not understand inconsistency, Patty,' said 
 the Doctor, and a smile passed over his kind face. 
 
 'It maybe so,' said Mrs. Patty; 'yet God knows I can 
 quite understand what the Prayer-Book makes one say. I am 
 sure none do more things they ought not to do than I do, and 
 no one oftener leaves undone things which ought to be done. I 
 can't venture to find fault with any on that score.' 
 
 'Those are sins of infirmity, Patty.' 
 
 ' Anyhow they are sins, and there are enough of them. 
 They are not my puzzle, however, for you see they belong to 
 myself. But what I don't comprehend is how persons can 
 declare that they intend and desire to go one way, and then 
 deliberately turn round and go the other. If Mr. Cameron 
 wishes his daughter to marry Mr. "Verney, well and good ; but 
 if not, let him keep his door shut against him.' 
 
 ' It is the way of this fallen world in many other cases be- 
 sides marriage, I am afraid,' said the Doctor. ' Men say they 
 mean to walk towards heaven, but they do not the less turn 
 their faces away from it.' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Mrs. Patty very earnestly, ' and so, surely, 
 as the Bible says, they are fools, though no one ventures to 
 call them so. But it is very perplexing, Doctor, when clever 
 men are fools, whether in things of this world or the next. 
 Little Myra would be much shocked if I said that I thought 
 Mr. Verney was a fool, yet I can't help thinking so, and some 
 day she will find it out.'
 
 222 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 1 You speak severely, Patty.' 
 
 'Do I? Yet I would cut off my right hand to help him 
 if he needed it. But truth is truth, and if this world is not 
 to be ours always, as we know it can't be, then to live as if it 
 were is just mad folly, and nothing less. And Mr. Verney 
 may be the cleverest man that breathes as regards knowing 
 about India, and government, and pictures, and music, and 
 all those things which take poor little Myra's fancy, but if he 
 neglects his religion, why, little Johnnie Ford in the Idiot 
 Asylum is more rational ; for when he wants a thing he does 
 go the shortest way to work to get it. Ah, Doctor ! you think 
 so, don't you ? ' 
 
 1 Perhaps I do,' was the Doctor's answer. ' But, Patty, there 
 is all the more reason we should pray for him.' 
 
 ' Yes, and for Rosamond and little Myra, too,' added Mrs. 
 Patty. 'And now, perhaps, I had better put up the letter 
 for Annette and Juliet, or I may forget it.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 That same day Colonel and Mrs. Verney, for the first time 
 for many weeks, sat down to a tcte-a-icte dinner in Eaton 
 Place. Mrs. Verney was tired with her gaieties, and had 
 entrusted her two girls to a friend who was to take them to a 
 botanical/^/ and Colonel Verney had business which would 
 occupy him all the evening, and which made a six o'clock 
 dinner a necessity. 
 
 Mrs. Verney, as usual, threw a little romance over the 
 matter-of-fact matrimonial reality. ' So pleasant it is, my 
 dear Colonel,' she said, as the dessert was placed on the table, 
 and she began to select the choicest raspberries from the dish 
 before her. ' So quiet and soothing. Let me give you just 
 these few raspberries, they really are splendid ; they were sent
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 223 
 
 up from Stormont this morning. I almost wish we were going 
 back there to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Thank you, my dear ; no more ;' and the Colonel took the 
 plate offered him. ' Stormont raspberries are always fine. 
 Why don't you go back, if you wish it ? ' 
 
 'Ah! if I could only consult my wishes; but poor Netta 
 and Elise, what would they say ? ' 
 
 ' They are very good girls, and would do what you told 
 them,' said the Colonel ; ( and this having a house in town is 
 an awful expense.' 
 
 'So it is, my dear Colonel; but one must be patient. It 
 won't be needed always. The dear girls will marry, and then 
 we can do as we choose.' 
 
 ' I don't want them to marry,' said the Colonel bluntly ; 
 ' I like to have them about me. Now they are out of the 
 schoolroom, and able to do as they like, why am I not to 
 have a little pleasure from them ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly ; most natural and right ; but we must not be 
 selfish. Parents have great sacrifices to make, and you are 
 the last man to stand in the way of your children's good. And 
 that reminds me — have you heard from Charles to-day?' 
 
 ' I don't see why it should remind you of him, my dear. 
 What has Charles Verney to do with your children's good ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing,' said Mrs. Verney, with a gentle smile, and a 
 slight sigh, which were intended to have a great deal of 
 meaning. ' Nothing, at least, apparently ; but a mother will 
 be anxious, and at one time, I confess, I was afraid that dear 
 Elise's imaginative mind might have formed too vivid a picture 
 of her cousin's talents and superiority. But that is over now. 
 His attachment to Rosamond Cameron is too evident to admit 
 of any mistake.' 
 
 'His attachment to whom?' exclaimed the Colonel, half 
 starting from his chair. 
 
 ' Rosamond Cameron, my love,' replied Mrs. Verney — she 
 always said ' love,' when she was afraid of having an outburst 
 of the reverse. 
 
 The Colonel sat down again. ' I don't understand this, 
 Frances. What do you mean? Is Charles engaged to Rosa-
 
 224 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 rr.ond Cameron ? Are they going to be married off at once ? 
 Why have not I been told of it before ? It is very remarkable, 
 very strange, very unfitting '—the Colonel was growing redder 
 and redder, and his vocabulary of indignation was likely to 
 be lengthy. Mrs. Verney bent forward, and pushed a biscuit 
 towards him, and put a few mere raspberries upon his plate, 
 but she said nothing ; and the Colonel drew up in the middle 
 of his sentence, like a horse who, meeting with no opposition, 
 suddenly arrives at the conclusion that there is no need to run 
 away, and ended with, ' Well, my dear.' 
 
 ' I have never heard that they are engaged,' was Mrs. 
 Verney's observation in reply ; ' but the world talks about it ; 
 and as he is gone abroad after them I suppose we must make 
 up our minds that there is something in it.' 
 
 ' But there must not be anything,' exclaimed the Colonel ; 
 ' Charles is not the man ; he is too old, and his health is 
 bad ; and those stories we heard against him have never been 
 denied up, my dear. Take my word for it, Cameron won't 
 allow it, and you had better write and tell Charles so at once. 
 I don't wish to have my nephew rejected, and he will be, as 
 sure as fate.' 
 
 'Are you not a little rapid, my dear Colonel? It is for 
 Mr. Cameron to find out these objections — supposing they 
 exist — not for us to suggest them.' 
 
 ' I don't desire that my nephew should run his head against 
 a post,' continued the Colonel. ' When a man makes an offer 
 to a girl, all his antecedents and circumstances are inquired 
 into ; and I know Cameron well enough to be sure that he will 
 be sharp and shrewd in the matter, as all men of his stamp are. 
 We shall come to a split — wc must. I can't have my nephew 
 insulted and rejected, and people talking as they will talk. 
 Cameron and I have kept apart all our lives, and we must con- 
 tinue to do so ; we shall be very rough neighbours if we don't.' 
 
 'Well, it may never come to anything,' said Mrs. Verney 
 in a tone of indifference, as she leaned her white hand upon 
 the table and gazed at her diamond ring ; ' but where affec- 
 tions are engaged worldly obstacles soon melt away ; and 
 Rosamond Cameron is a very sweet girl.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 22s 
 
 ' She may have come straight from paradise for aught I 
 care,' exclaimed the Colonel ; ' but I don't want her to be 
 Charles Verney's wife.' 
 
 ' Only if she should be so you will receive her kindly.' 
 1 1 won't receive her at all. I hate Cameron's politics. I 
 hate being mixed up with them. Don't let me have the girl 
 asked again to the house on any account. I won't have it, 
 my dear ; remember now what I say — I won't have it.' 
 
 ' Certainly, my love ; everything shall be as you wish. I 
 only felt glad myself that Charles seemed to be attracted by 
 Rosamond, because I had heard a rumour of a possible en- 
 gagement in India, which would not be by any means as 
 satisfactory.' 
 
 ' He is always flirting,' exclaimed the Colonel. ' For a sen- 
 sible man, there is no one has made more of a fool of himself 
 in that way than Charles. The wonder is he has not been 
 taken in by an Indian Begum before this ; ' and as the Colonel 
 laughed at his own suggestion, the angry ruddiness of his 
 cheeks subsided into a quieter and browner hue. 
 
 ' I wish it may be nothing more serious than a flirtation,' 
 said Mrs. Verney. ' I have only heard rumours, indeed, but 
 they come from various quarters. Mrs. de Lancy told me 
 when I took Juliet and Annette to school the other day that 
 it was some niece of poor old Miss Medley's. I don't believe, 
 though, it can be ; Charles never would mix himself up with 
 any of her family.' 
 
 ' Old Miss Medley ! My nephew marry a niece of old Miss 
 Medley's ! The world is gone mad ! ' exclaimed the Colonel. 
 ' Why, she is the daughter of a quack doctor ! ' 
 
 ' Once a regular physician, I believe,' replied Mrs. Verney. 
 
 ' Regular physician ! regular humbug ! Hasn't she killed 
 herself with swallowing his atrocious globules ? Charles marry 
 her niece ! He should never put his foot in my house again if 
 he did ; and you may tell him so.' 
 
 ' And that Rosamond Cameron would be preferable,' said 
 Mrs. Verney gently. 
 
 ' I don't know — I won't say. Why should he marry at all ? 
 What is the use of marrying ? It only brings trouble into a 
 
 P
 
 226 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 family. If he must have a wife, let him go to Kamschatka 
 and settle there, and never let us hear any more of him. I 
 hate marrying ; it is the ruin of all peace — I hate it ! ' 
 
 ' Only, unfortunately, it must be. But, my love, we won't 
 think about it till it comes. Only let us be thankful that, at 
 any rate, we are more likely to have an English lady for our 
 niece than the descendant of a quack doctor.' 
 
 ' Umph ! ' was all the Colonel's reply. But he did not 
 deny that he had cause for gratitude ; and Mrs. Verney was 
 satisfied. 
 
 She had reason to be so. By planting in her husband's 
 mind the thought of a possible connection with the family of 
 his political opponent, she had achieved an object which had 
 been weighing upon her mind for many weeks. Why such 
 a connection should have been a matter of importance, only 
 those who knew Mrs. Verney thoroughly could understand. 
 A watchful mother and a manceuvrer, the fear she had ex- 
 pressed lest Elise should become attached to her cousin 
 Charles was real. For Mrs. Verney could in her child's 
 case see clearly the objections which were deemed of no 
 consequence where the child of another was concerned. Age, 
 character, and fortune were all against Mr. Verney. It was 
 very well to idealise him to her friends, and set him upon a 
 pedestal, for a centre to a dinner-party ; but to accept him 
 for a son-in-law was quite a different matter ; and when the 
 possibility suggested itself to Mrs. Verney's mind, she at once 
 determined to take precautionary measures in time. Not, 
 indeed, that she said to herself that her nephew Charles was 
 a man of indifferent character, indifferent fortune, and indif- 
 ferent health, and therefore it would be better to provide him 
 with a wife from her neighbour's family than from her own. 
 Mrs. Verney was as plausible to herself as she was to her 
 friends ; and she reasoned so sensibly, so philosophically — 
 at times even so religiously — that the inward eye and the 
 voice of conscience must indeed have been singularly clear 
 to have discovered wherein lay the self-deception in motive. 
 She said — and it was perfectly true — that the marriage of 
 cousins was very objectionable, and that, to prevent such a
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 227 
 
 catastrophe, it would be well to give her nephew some other 
 object of interest. This was the ground-work of her course of 
 action, and no fault could be found with it. With regard to 
 Mr. Vcrncy's character — ' What the eye did not see the heart 
 was not likely to grieve.' Report said that he had been wild 
 and extravagant • but no doubt experience had done its 
 work ; and at his age, and with his good sense, he was 
 likely to settle down into a very steady estimable man. 
 Moreover — and this was a strong argument — Rosamond was 
 not likely to know or care much about his antecedents. She 
 had no particular principles ; she was simply a very pretty, 
 good-tempered, fashionable girl, who would be glad to be 
 married, and might as well marry Charles Verney as any 
 one else. Health, indeed, was one objection ; for if Mr. 
 Verney could not return to India, his income would be most 
 materially diminished, and Mrs. Verney had been so far 
 conscientious upon this point that, although she had pas- 
 sively encouraged the intimacy, she had never taken any 
 very active steps to promote it, until the probability that 
 Rosamond would inherit her aunt's fortune seemed likely to 
 remove out of the way this — in her eyes — only important 
 obstacle. Rosamond, with two thousand a year of her own, 
 would really be a most desirable wife for a man thrown out 
 of an Indian appointment ; and then, too, all old associations 
 would be broken off, and Mr. Verney's life might, as it were, 
 be begun anew. With a natural delight in match-making, the 
 temptation to interfere more definitely became too strong to 
 be resisted ; and before he went abroad Mr. Verney had 
 received suggestions and hints and encouragements which — 
 if only his affections had been engaged to the ejrtent which 
 his aunt chose to imagine — must long since have had the 
 effect of bringing affairs to a climax. But — most unaccount- 
 able it appeared to Mrs. Verney — from some unknown cause 
 the crisis never occurred. Mr. Verney flirted with Rosamond 
 publicly, and expressed his admiration of her privately ; he 
 even went so far as to make her presents, and to receive 
 drawings and guard-chains and purses in return ; but he 
 could never be brought to the point of proposal. Mrs.
 
 228 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Verney became uneasy. Like other manceuvrers, she cared 
 less for the object than for the fact of success. Rosamond 
 and Mr. Verney might or might not be likely to make each 
 other happy; but if Mrs. Verney had determined they should 
 marry, they must ; and therefore she set herself sedulously to 
 find out what hidden obstacles lay in the path. In the course 
 of this inquiry — which was carried on with great skill and 
 profound secrecy — the possibility of what she chose to call 
 an Indian entanglement was suggested, and although no 
 certain evidence was produced — for the information only 
 came from friends' friends who had known Mr. Verney in 
 India — it gave her a stimulus to exertion and a clue to her 
 nephew's conduct that she was far too well practised in the 
 work which she had undertaken not to use with skill for the 
 attainment of her own purposes. Within the last fortnight a 
 letter had been written to Mr. Verney, suggesting, in the most 
 insinuating manner, the danger of his prolonging his foreign 
 intercourse with the Camerons. The world, Mrs. Verney said, 
 was beginning to talk. Rosamond Cameron was a most 
 attractive girl, and was already looked upon as an heiress. 
 She had been much admired in London ; and Mr. Verney 
 knew that on her return she would be likely to have many 
 and most desirable offers if she were considered disengaged. 
 But even before she left England, persons were held back by 
 the reports of an attachment — even an engagement — between 
 her and Mr. Verney. This was very unfair. Mrs. Verney 
 put it to her nephew, as a man of honour, whether it was 
 right that such a state of things should continue. If lie had 
 no serious intentions he had no right to feign them. He 
 ought at once to leave the family. True, it might be too late. 
 Mrs. Verney would on no account betray confidence; yet she 
 could not but fear, from what she had seen and heard, that 
 Rosamond's feelings had already been excited to a degree 
 which might be very dangerous to her happiness. She was 
 upon the surface a sweet, bright — some might even say a 
 thoughtless — young girl ; but such apparent buoyancy of 
 spirits often concealed great capacities of suffering. Mrs. 
 Verney entreated her nephew no longer to trifle in this
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 229 
 
 matter. He might possibly have been influenced 'in his 
 delay by the very advantages which a marriage with Rosa- 
 mond Cameron offered. A wife, beautiful, accomplished, 
 perfect in temper, fascinating in society, a member of a good 
 family, and having the almost certainty of two thousand a 
 year of her own, was certainly not to be met with every 
 day ; and a man of very refined feeling might well hesitate 
 before he ventured to ask for such a treasure. But morbid 
 scruples would, in the end, be injurious to all parties. And 
 it was due to Rosamond, and due also to her parents, 
 and to Mr. Verney's own character — that attentions without 
 meaning should no longer be suffered to stand in the way of 
 her prospects for life. Mrs. Verney concluded with ardent 
 wishes for her nephew's happiness, and an assurance that, 
 whatever might be his decision, she should always be most 
 affectionately interested in his welfare. 
 
 The letter was written and despatched ; but it lay rather 
 heavy on Mrs. Verney's mind — perhaps it a little burdened 
 her conscience. One thing was certain — she shrank from 
 mentioning the subject to which it referred to her husband. 
 Colonel Verney had great and very serious faults, but they 
 were of a less insidious character than his wife's. He was 
 more honest-hearted, more true and Christian in his principles. 
 Mr. Verney not being a man whom he could approve of for 
 his own daughter, he would have scorned the thought of en- 
 couraging his attentions to Rosamond • and this his wife 
 perfectly well knew. Again and again in life her schemes 
 had been interfered with by her husband's blunt and some- 
 times very rough and awkward honesty. But, in this instance, 
 his sense of the undcsirableness of such a marriage for Rosa- 
 mond would be strengthened by his own prejudices. He 
 might bear with Mr. Cameron socially, but an actual con- 
 nection would be entirely opposed to his views and interests. 
 Yet he must be prepared for the contingency ; and this could 
 only be done by accustoming him to the idea gradually. A 
 sudden announcement of Mr. Verney's engagement (supposing 
 it to exist) would almost inevitably produce an outbreak of 
 incautious anger and surprise, the consequences of which it
 
 230 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 would be impossible to foresee. Mrs. Verney had iiondered 
 this matter well for several days ; and the result was the con- 
 versation which had just passed, and which had been much 
 more favourable to her wishes than she could have ventured 
 to anticipate. The Colonel was never a very reasonable or 
 reasoning being. His one great weakness — violent temper — • 
 put him continually at a disadvantage with persons who could 
 be cool and bide their time ; and Mrs. Verney knew full well 
 that if she could excite his indignation at the prospect of 
 being connected with the ' quack doctor,' he would accept 
 whatever might be suggested in its stead, without pausing to 
 weigh objections which, in calmer moments, might seriously 
 interfere with her projects. She had calculated well and 
 wisely. The Colonel sat in his arm-chair and drank his port 
 wine and stormed mentally at ' Old Miss Medley ; ' and when 
 he thought of Rosamond felt only — as his wife intended he 
 should feel — that it would be a great gain for them all to 
 have nothing worse than a Cameron instead.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 23! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 When Myra drove back to Ischl, in compliance with the order 
 she had received, it was in a spirit of no very perfect submission 
 or good temper. Principles sometimes change suddenly, but 
 practice follows but slowly after them. Everything had gone 
 wrong on that particular day. She disliked the upsetting of 
 her plans; she was very sorry to leave St. Wolfgang; she 
 was disappointed at not seeing more of Miss Stuart ; and, 
 more than all, she dreaded on every account travelling without 
 Mr. Verney's help and companionship. As a climax, instead 
 of having a pleasant drive in an open carriage with Colonel 
 and Mrs. Hensman, she was told at the last minute that they 
 were excessively sorry, but that most unexpectedly they were 
 compelled to go in another direction to see a friend who was 
 taken suddenly ill, and that the only mode of conveyance 
 they could find for her would be a little country vehicle, half 
 chaise, half cart, which would be driven by their servant. So 
 Myra jolted over the rough road, and had scarcely heart to 
 admire the scenery, even when after a drive of seven miles 
 they came to the summit of a hill, at the foot of which lay the 
 small town of Ischl, encircled by mountains and forests near 
 and distant, a torrent-river rushing by it, and trees and cliffs 
 breaking the outline of the foreground. 
 
 Sorrow may be soothed by the beauty of nature, for sorrow, 
 like nature, comes from God, and is sacred ; but temper is 
 human, and refuses to submit to its influence. Myra suffered 
 at that moment from a fit of discontent, which might have 
 suited the days gone by ; and, in order to indulge it, conjured 
 up every possible form of disagreeableness which might be 
 expected to await her at the Hotel Baur — her mother's com- 
 plaining illness, her father's cold strictness, Rosamond's utter 
 want of comprehension and sympathy, and Mr. Verney's 
 moodiness. The first words she heard from Co^ycrs, who
 
 2 5 2 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 met her at the entrance of the hotel, were by no means 
 encouraging. 
 
 ' Why, Miss Myra, how late you are ! Master has been 
 waiting dinner for you, and he is so angry. He thought you 
 would have been here two hours ago.' 
 
 ' It was very foolish to wait,' said Myra impatiently. ' I 
 have dined.' 
 
 ' How vexatious. And your mamma was to have had a 
 drive somewhere this afternoon, but it has been put off because 
 of dinner and your not being here ; and now she has had one 
 of her faints, and Miss Cameron and Mr. Verney are just gone 
 out somewhere — I am sure I don't know where. Why didn't 
 you come, Miss Myra, when you were sent for?' 
 
 ' I came as soon as it was convenient, Conyers,' replied 
 Myra haughtily. ' Will you be so good as to have my trunk 
 taken to my room ? ' 
 
 Conyers moved sulkily away, and Myra went a few steps 
 upstairs ; then something seemed to strike her with self- 
 reproach, and she came back. 
 
 ' Is mamma ill from having been kept waiting, Conyers?' 
 
 1 I believe it is worry more than anything else, Miss Myra. 
 She thought something had happened as you did not come.' 
 
 Myra made no answer to Conyers, but went immediately to 
 Mrs. Cameron's room. Her tone was humble and affectionate, 
 as she said how sorry she was, how thoughtless she had been, 
 how much she hoped that her mother was not seriously 
 vexed. 
 
 ' I have been nervous, my dear, but never mind ; it is only 
 for your father; he has been kepi, waiting for dinner.' 
 
 ' I thought they would dine at the table-d' hdte } and so it 
 would not signify,' said Myra. 
 
 ' No ; they had a fancy for a private dinner to-day. I think 
 it was Mr. Verney's wish, or Rosamond's ; but go and get ready, 
 my love. Don't think about me ; I shall do quite well. I 
 hope you have enjoyed yourself.' 
 
 Myra could scarcely say she had. It was so chilling to be 
 received as if the breaking up of her pleasant little visit was 
 of no consequence. She turned away pettishly, went to her
 
 , A GLIMPSE OF Til EWORLD. 233 
 
 room, and took off her bonnet and cloak, brooding all the 
 while over she scarcely knew what; and then, as she looked 
 at her watch, recollected that in packing and departure the 
 morning had gone by without allowing time for the serious 
 reading and prayer to which she was accustomed. There was 
 no time now ; at least, none which would be sufficient : but 
 Myra's sensitive conscience was touched. She felt herself 
 thoroughly put out and wrong. She was thinking of nothing 
 and no one but herself ; she was prepared to take offence 
 before it was offered. A little more yielding to weakness and 
 perverseness, and the old uncontrollable ill temper would be 
 upon her. Conyers knocked at the door. 
 
 ' Dinner is on the table, Miss Myra, and master won't wait 
 another instant.' 
 
 Prayers may take but one moment. Myra's was scarcely 
 longer, but after it came the struggling, earnest, almost phy- 
 sical effort to resist the self which was striving for the mastery ; 
 and Myra's smile of apology as she met her father on the 
 staircase was so sweet that Mr. Cameron's usual indifferent 
 sternness of manner melted beforeJ.it, and instead of finding 
 fault, he stopped to kiss her, and said that ' he did not like her 
 being away. They were none of them comfortable without 
 her.' It was the first time that Myra had ever realised to 
 herself the place she was gaining in the esteem and the affec- 
 tions of her home. 
 
 The conversation at dinner turned upon the plans for the 
 next few days. Mr. Verney took part in it ; but his thoughts 
 were evidently elsewhere. This jarred upon Mr. Cameron, and 
 it was only by the exercise of his punctilious politeness that he 
 prevented himself from showing his annoyance. Myra found 
 herself obliged to take a prominent part in proposing and 
 settling what was to be done, if it were only to please her 
 father. She had studied Ischl and its vicinity in the guide- 
 book as a matter of information, and in spite of Rosamond's 
 ridicule and Mr. Verney's assurance that whenever he wanted 
 to go to sleep he always took a dose of ' Murray.' Her father 
 kept her with him after dinner was over, with a view to some 
 final discussions with the landlord, and the help of her German
 
 2 3 4 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 knowledge ; Mrs. Cameron had dined in her own room ; and 
 Rosamond and Mr. Verney left the saloon together. 
 
 At the head of the staircase Rosamond stopped, and said 
 she must go to her mother. Yet she lingered ; and as Mr. 
 Verney opened the door into the private sitting-room she 
 entered, whilst he followed. There was a balcony before the 
 window overhanging the street. Rosamond went out, and 
 still Mr. Verney accompanied her. Rosamond remarked 
 lightly, ' One should [sleep through last days ; they are so 
 weary.' 
 
 ' Sleep and dream ? ' said Mr. Verney. ' That might be 
 worse than waking.' 
 
 ' No,' replied Rosamond, ' because anything that is dis- 
 agreeable in a dream becomes a pleasure when we wake up 
 from it.' 
 
 ' And the memories of these last days may become a plea- 
 sure by and by then,' said Mr. Verney. 
 
 ' Oh yes, they may ; very likely they will. I have no doubt 
 they will to you.' 
 
 ' Why no doubt to me ? ' 
 
 ' Because you like to view things poetically, and you will 
 easily make a romance of them.' 
 
 ' And what shall you make ? ' he inquired eagerly. 
 
 ' I ? oh nothing. I shall ' — Rosamond paused — ' I shall 
 forget them.' 
 
 'That is not flattering.' 
 
 ' But it may be wise ; ' and Rosamond turned away her head 
 and gazed down into the street. 
 
 Mr. Verney drew nearer. ' When things are indifferent to 
 one, there can neither be wisdom nor the reverse in forgetting 
 them.' 
 
 Rosamond was silent. 
 
 ' And these last days will be matters of indifference to you?' 
 he continued. 
 
 ' Did I say so ? ' and Rosamond looked up in his face and 
 smiled. 
 
 That must have been a very prosaic and coli! temperament 
 which could resist such a smile. And Mr. Verney was lonely
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 235 
 
 at heart — weary of the world — hopeless of the realisation of 
 what had once been his day-dream of happiness with Char- 
 lotte Stuart ; above all he had that morning received his 
 aunt's suggestive letter, and the insidious words were in- 
 delibly impressed upon his memory. 'A wife, beautiful, 
 accomplished, perfect in temper, fascinating in society, a 
 member of a good family, and having the almost certainty 
 of two thousand a year of her own, is not to be met with 
 every day.' 
 
 The generality of men are not deliberately treacherous. It 
 is opportunity which is their snare : and when Mr. Verney 
 answered Rosamond's smile, by an eager outpouring of flattery 
 and excited feeling, he no more thought whither he was tend- 
 ing than the man who on a sudden impulse has cast himself 
 into the rapid current of a river meditates upon the ocean in 
 which his course is to close. 
 
 It was Rosamond who thought — Rosamond who drew him 
 on — Rosamond who smiled, and sighed, and pretended that 
 she would not and must not hear — Rosamond who at length 
 blushed, and in a subdued voice said, ' I did not think you so 
 cared for me.' 
 
 What man could escape from such a snare ? Mr. Verney's 
 answer was a protestation of unwavering affection ; and in ten 
 minutes from the time he entered the room he was engaged.
 
 236 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Rain still! It had rained almost without intermission from 
 the time that Myra had left St. Wolfgang. Why then, as she 
 asked herself, must they leave these comfortable quarters at 
 Ischl, and establish themselves at a little country inn at 
 Aussee ? Why, especially, should Mrs. Cameron be subjected 
 to such a risk? Simply because Rosamond and Mr. Verney 
 insisted upon it. It was certain to clear, so said the latter, 
 and he must leave Ischl — he must see Hallstadt and Gosau — 
 he must part from his friends unless they could accompany 
 him. And the ' must ' was uttered so earnestly that every one 
 was compelled to believe it. 
 
 They left Ischl in the interval between two storms, when 
 the clouds were lifted from the hills sufficiently to satisfy Mr. 
 Cameron that he was not acting quite madly. And at Aussee 
 the rain poured down again, and all that could be attempted 
 was a stroll in the evening along the banks of the Traun, 
 undertaken by Mr. Verney, Rosamond, and Myra. They 
 had often been thus together before, and to Myra it seemed 
 quite natural that her sister and Mr. Verney should walk 
 apart, and that she should be allowed to stray at will, 
 gathering wet flowers, and joining them whenever she felt 
 inclined. 
 
 She saw they were earnest in conversation, and Mr. Veiney's 
 manner occasionally seemed to her excited almost to irritability, 
 but Myra was by nature unsuspicious. She took her evening 
 walk, and spent the hour after tea in conversation and draw- 
 ing, full of plans for the next day which was to bring a bright 
 sun and an expedition to the lake of Hallstadt, without once 
 thinking that any secret was kept back from her. 
 
 When she wished Mr. Verney good night, she said, with 
 her usual openness of manner, ' One more day, and then it 
 will be good-bye ; and we shall be so sorry ; but I know you 
 will come back.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 237 
 
 He started, and said quickly, ' How do you know it ? ' 
 
 And Myra answered, ' Because we all care for you and you 
 care for us.' And then there was an expression in his face 
 which perplexed her. It was as if she had said something to 
 displease him, and she went to bed wondering whether she 
 had been wrong, because as the words were uttered, she had 
 thought of Rosamond, and perhaps any such allusion was 
 unfitting. 
 
 Sunshine greeted them the next morning; but it was a 
 fitful sunshine, gleaming at intervals, and Mrs. Cameron was 
 afraid to trust it. She proposed to go back to Ischl with 
 Conyers, and leave the rest of the party to explore Hallstadt, 
 and either sleep at Gosau, or return to Ischl in the evening, 
 as they might think fit. The proposal was made in the tone 
 of a martyr, as Mrs. Cameron's self-sacrifices generally were ; 
 and in consequence no one except Myra appreciated it. Whilst 
 the horses were being ordered for herself and Rosamond, she 
 stole quietly to her mother's side and whispered a wish that they 
 could all remain together, and undertake some less fatiguing 
 expedition ; but she was cut short by Rosamond, who happen- 
 ing to overhear her, declared that the arrangements were quite 
 made, and that it was much too late to think of any change. 
 If they did not set off at once they should miss everything : 
 a fact which Mrs. Cameron accepted without questioning, 
 though she said mournfully : 'It does not signify much where 
 I go, my dear, my eyes are so bad I can't see, and I daresay 
 I shall have a headache before the day is over.' 
 
 ' Mamma, I must go back with you,' was Myra's answer. 
 ' You can't be left to Conyers.' 
 
 ' It is but for the day,' said Rosamond. ' We shall only make 
 papa angry if we alter the plan.' 
 
 Again Myra repeated, ' Dear mamma, they will do quite 
 well without me.' 
 
 And Rosamond very gently pushed her towards the door, 
 saying, ' You will be late as you always are.' Myra's heart 
 was set on Hallstadt, and all the more resolutely she lingered. 
 But there was no help from her mother, who could only say in
 
 23S A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 a dreary tone ; ' My love, go ; they all wish it, and your father 
 will be displeased, and I am accustomed to be left.' 
 
 The last words would, as Myra well knew, be a text for 
 lamentation and complaint for many days to come, but she 
 could do no more, and hurried away, followed^ by Rosamond, 
 who with a good-humoured patronage insisted that she would 
 keep them all waiting, and leave half her things behind her 
 if she was not looked after ; and upon this pretext contrived 
 to remain with her till the horses were at the door, so as to 
 leave no moment for thought and fresh suggestions which 
 might interfere with her own wishes. 
 
 Myra, with her over-scrupulous conscience, was a little in- 
 clined to worry herself at first, lest she had not made all the 
 effort for her mother which she ought, but her natural good 
 sense suggested that self-accusations which interfere with pre- 
 sent duty are always better put aside. So she devoted herself 
 to her father, feeling a little penitential satisfaction in the fact 
 that she would much have preferred riding by Rosamond's 
 side and listening to Mr. Verney, who was full of excitement 
 at the beauty of the pass between Aussee and Hallstadt, which 
 they began to ascend almost immediately upon leaving the 
 former village. Again and again he called out to Myra to 
 stop and admire the points from which they could look far 
 down the side of the mountain, and watch the effect of the 
 sunlight gleaming through the trunks and branches of the 
 dark pine forest ; but Rosamond never allowed him to leave 
 her, and even when he walked on a little way with Mr. Came- 
 ron, had always an excuse ready to bring him back — the 
 saddle had slipped, or would slip, or the road was narrow, or 
 the mule went too near the edge ; something there always was 
 to retain him near her ; with or against his will it would have 
 been impossible from his countenance to decide. He was im- 
 perturbable and impenetrable as ever. 
 
 They descended to Obertraun, a small village about half a 
 mile from the lake of Hallstadt, and here clouds began to settle 
 upon the tops of the mountains, sinking gradually lower and 
 lower, with that occasional dispersion and swift gathering to-
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 239 
 
 gcther again which is so trying and dispiriting to travellers in 
 a mountainous district. 
 
 The lake of Hallstadt looked extremely gloomy. The snow 
 was lingering on the summits of the precipitous pine clad 
 mountains, which close it in at its southern extremity, and 
 the nearer cliffs descended so abruptly to the shore as, in one 
 part, to leave only sufficient space for a footpath. In winter 
 the inhabitants of the village of Hallstadt never see the sun 
 above the highest mountain tops, and even now in the middle 
 of summer, the grey mists and the wall of jagged rocks cast a 
 twilight shadow over the deep dark waters, disturbed by the 
 ominous ripple of an approaching storm. 
 
 A boat was moored under a shed against the shore ; a short 
 row would carry them across the lake to Hallstadt. There 
 was no comfortable shelter where they were, and Mr. Verney 
 urged that they should go. Mr. Cameron demurred, and a 
 short argument arose, in the midst of which the heavy rain- 
 drops began to fall, and all hurried towards the shed. Rosa- 
 mond and Myra seated themselves in the boat, and had scarcely 
 covered themselves with cloaks when a torrent of rain and hail 
 pelted and dashed into the lake, and a gust of wind rushing 
 through a gap in the hills, nearly broke the umbrellas with 
 which they were trying to screen themselves from the streams 
 which assailed them on all sides. The roll of thunder and 
 the flash of lightning followed, and Rosamond looked round in 
 terror. Mr. Cameron was arguing with the guides, who, he 
 thought, were endeavouring to cheat him, and an earthquake 
 would not have disturbed his attention. Myra was leaning 
 forward over the boat, lost in admiration at the effects of the 
 storm on the mountains. Another dazzling gleam lit up the 
 lake, and a faint scream burst from Rosamond, and as she 
 looked imploringly to Mr. Verney for protection, he put his 
 arm round her, and some very endearing expression escaped 
 him. At that instant Myra turned, her eyes met Mr. Verney's, 
 and for once the colour rushed to his cheeks. The expression 
 of surprise in Myra's face was unmistakable. She turned 
 round, drew her cloak round her, and sat facing him, but per- 
 fectly silent. He made a trifling remark, and Myra just
 
 240 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 answered him, but that was all. Rosamond was conscious of 
 nothing but the thunderstorm. At each successive flash of 
 lightning, she renewed her little screams, and at last entreated 
 to leave the boat, and nothing but Mr. Cameron's stern com- 
 mand kept her in her place. Yet there was no real cause for 
 terror. The lightning was merely sheet lightning at a distance, 
 and the only danger was that of being wet. Mr. Verney in- 
 sisted that Myra should come and sit between him and her 
 father, that so she might be more protected ; and Myra did as 
 she was ordered, keeping, however, close to Mr. Cameron, and 
 continuing so silent that the latter gave her credit for sharing 
 Rosamond's alarm. 
 
 It was all over in a quarter of an hour. The clouds were 
 lifted from the hills, the blue sky appeared overhead, and a line 
 of brilliant' light streamed over the lake. Rosamond's spirits 
 rose as quickly as they had fallen, and as the boat pushed off 
 from the shore, and cliff after cliff broke from the mist and 
 stood forth in savage grandeur, she became enthusiastic in her 
 admiration, and declared that it was quite worth while to have 
 endured the storm and the terror for the contrast of the beauty 
 which succeeded it — a remark to which Mr. Cameron gave the 
 short answer : ' It may have been worth while for you, my 
 dear, but it was certainly not worth while for us.' So silence 
 fell upon the party, and even when they passed below Ru- 
 dolph's tower — perched on a projecting rock — and the village 
 of Hallstadt, nestling below it, came in sight, no one expressed 
 satisfaction except Mr. Cameron, who remarked that it was 
 a good thing that they had not been detained longer, as they 
 should have time now to order dinner and take a walk whilst 
 it was getting ready. 
 
 The village was straggling and dirty, as the generality of 
 such secluded villages on the continent are ; the peasants who 
 inhabited it had no standard with which to measure themselves, 
 but the inn was of a superior stamp, thanks to the travellers 
 who in the summer time frequented it. 
 
 Two gentlemen had already taken possession of the long low 
 saloon, into which Mr. Cameron's party were ushered, and 
 early though it was, were just sitting down to dinner. English
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 241 
 
 exclusivcness suggested to Mr. Cameron the necessity of having 
 another room to themselves, but the idea was negatived by- 
 Mr. Verney, who seemed relieved at the prospect of having 
 any one to converse with besides his stiff and silent companions. 
 Mr. Cameron left the room to try and find mules or donkeys, 
 which would carry Rosamond and Myra to the Strub water- 
 fall, and Mr. Verney hearing one of the strangers acciden- 
 tally mention Gosau, went up to him, and began to make 
 inquiries about the distance, the roads, and the accommoda- 
 tion. 
 
 In a few minutes he returned to Rosamond and Myra, who 
 were standing by the window, and said : ' I am afraid from 
 what I hear we shall be obliged to alter our plans. The inn 
 at Gosau will never do for you and your father. These gentle- 
 men are just come from it, and say the accommodation is 
 wretched.' Myra made no reply ; Rosamond declared that 
 she did not in the least care for comfort, she could sleep any- 
 where. ' But your father cannot,' continued Mr. Verney, ' and 
 the clouds are gathering again ; we shall have more rain. I 
 can't but think you will do better to see what you can here, 
 and then drive back to Ischl.' 
 
 ' And you ? ' exclaimed Rosamond. 
 
 ' I must go to Gosau as I had settled; and from thence I 
 shall make my way to Golling. I have not fixed upon my 
 route afterwards.' 
 
 Rosamond's face clouded with disappointment, as she an- 
 swered rather pettishly, ' I see no must in the case, except 
 your own will.' 
 
 Mr. Verney glanced warningly at the strangers, for Rosa- 
 mond had spoken quite loudly enough to be heard, and Myra 
 noticing this moved away. A rapid eager conversation ensued, 
 in the midst of which Mr. Cameron came back with the in- 
 formation that the mules were ready and dinner was ordered. 
 They might go to the waterfall, and by the time they returned 
 it would be ready. 
 
 The road led up one side of a deep wooded ravine. Mr. 
 Cameron and Myra went first, Rosamond and Mr. Verney 
 followed • but as the little guide who attended Myra's mule 
 
 Q
 
 242 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 stopped to point out the line in the stupendous cliff opposite to 
 them, which, as he said, marked one of the paths by which the 
 Dachstein could be ascended, Mr. Verney left Rosamond and 
 came forward to question the boy about the mountain, and 
 when they went on again Myra found herself the foremost of 
 the party, and Mr. Verney beside her. Her mule moved more 
 quickly than Rosamond's, and though she several times pro- 
 posed to stop, in order that the others might come up with 
 them, Mr. Verney would not attend to her wishes. He hurried 
 her on till they were a considerable distance in advance, only 
 pausing when they stood in front of the beautiful waterfall, 
 which, tearing through a narrow ravine, falls boiling and tossing 
 from a height of 240 feet into a hollow of the rock, rising again 
 in foam and dashing on its impetuous course to the lake ; 
 whilst another stream at its side descends continuously in a 
 sheet of light vapoury spray. It was the first fine waterfall 
 that Myra had seen, and, breathless with awe and delight, she 
 hung over the abyss, lost in the overwhelming perception of 
 whirling movement, which it seemed had known no beginning, 
 and could know no end. 
 
 Mr. Verney's voice recalled her from her abstraction. 
 ' Myra, you are angry with me.' 
 
 Myra turned round, and as the colour mounted to her cheek, 
 answered gravely and shyly, ' I have nothing to be angry 
 about, Mr. Verney.' 
 
 ' Yes,' he said, ' you have, or you would have, if you were 
 not mistaken in what you think ; but, Myra, Rosamond and I 
 are engaged.' 
 
 The smile on Myra's face was like the glitter of a sunbeam, 
 and as she held out her hand to Mr. Verney in the fulness of 
 her relief and satisfaction, she said, ' Oh ! thank you, thank 
 you. I am more happy than I can say. I hoped, — I 
 thought ' 
 
 ' That I could not, under any circumstances, forget pro- 
 priety,' he said, with a faint laugh. ' I am grateful to you for 
 the doubt. But, Myra, I must say a few more words. Can 
 you not move on with me ? ' and as Rosamond and Mr. 
 Cameron came in sight, he went nearer to the waterfall, and
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 243 
 
 placed himself so that the rush of the torrent effectually pre- 
 vented their conversation from being overheard. 
 
 Myra followed him eagerly, but when she looked at him, it 
 was evident to her that he was by no means as completely at 
 ease as herself. ' We arc engaged,' he repeated hesitatingly. 
 'But it won't do to talk about it.' 
 
 'Not to people generally, of course/ said Myra. 
 
 ' Not to any one.' 
 
 ' Except papa and mamma ? ' 
 
 ' Not to any one.' 
 
 Myra glanced at him as if doubting that she had heard 
 aright.' 
 
 ' You must put faith in me,' he continued hurriedly. ' It is 
 impossible for me now to explain the reasons of our secrecy, 
 but I would not have burdened you with the knowledge of our 
 engagement if I had not seen that you suspected it.' 
 
 ' I wish you had not told me,' exclaimed Myra, 'except — no, 
 I don't wish it. Mr. Verney, you must know best.' The words 
 were uttered in the quick determined tone by which persons so 
 often endeavour to hide from themselves a doubt. 
 
 ' Of course I must know best,' was the reply, ' and what is 
 more, Myra, I know what you will do to help your sister.' 
 
 ' I ! but if you are engaged you cannot want help.' 
 
 ' You will write to me, I am sure, and tell me how you are 
 getting on, and I shall write to you ; and if I enclose a note for 
 Rosamond, you will not object to give it to her quietly, without 
 making any remark.' 
 
 Instead of replying, Myra moved some steps towards the 
 spot where her father and Rosamond were standing. Mr. 
 Verney followed and detained her. 
 
 ' It would be unkind, Myra,' he said, 'to let scruples inter- 
 fere with a little act of good-nature to Rosamond. You know 
 quite well that your father always receives the letters, and 
 knows my handwriting. It would be out of the question for 
 me to write to her without his noticing it, and there are good 
 and substantial reasons why, at the present moment, our en- 
 gagement should be kept to ourselves. I hate asking such a 
 favour. I am putting myself entirely in a false position by it j
 
 244 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 but the fact is, that Rosamond would not do it. She declared 
 you would never consent, and she had made up her mind to 
 spend weeks, perhaps months, without hearing from me ; but 
 as I told her, such scruples were too absurd, and I would not 
 hear of them. Of course if you don't choose to gratify her 
 there is nothing more to be said, we must accept what cannot 
 be avoided.' 
 
 It was the first time that Myra had ever seen him seriously 
 annoyed, and she actually trembled at the proud gloom which 
 overspread his face. The anger of a man, and that man Mr. 
 Verney, was very terrible to her j and the sense of her weak- 
 ness, her inferiority in age, judgment, knowledge of the world, 
 in everything which can give the right of forming an indepen- 
 dent opinion, pressed upon her overwhelmingly. She said 
 falteringly, ' May I not think about it ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, certainly ; if such a trifle requires thought,' and 
 he turned contemptuously away. 
 
 That was worse to Myra than anything. She could have 
 borne to argue the point with him, and perhaps she might have 
 held her ground against him, but she could not bear his scorn. 
 The romance of admiration which she had indulged turned 
 as it were, against her, and as she remounted her mule and 
 rode slowly back towards the inn, all the powers of sophistry 
 which she possessed, — and from the peculiarly metaphysical 
 turn of her mind they were by no means slight, — were enlisted 
 against the instinct of conscience. Mr. Verney must know 
 best, he must be right ; that was the premiss from which Myra 
 drew all her conclusions. No doubt there were cases in which 
 concealment upon such subjects was a necessity ; she could not 
 be the judge whether this was one of them, and to attempt to 
 decide the point was taking upon herself a responsibility which 
 did not belong to her. If her father and mother so evidently 
 trusted Mr. Verney, and approved of him, there could be 
 nothing wrong in following his guidance ; and there was not 
 the slightest doubt that he would in the end be able to explain 
 everything satisfactorily. If, on the other hand, she refused, 
 Rosamond would be wretched and moody, and her temper would 
 react upon Mrs. Cameron. The advantage which had been
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 245 
 
 derived from the journey would be neutralised, her father would 
 be disappointed, and every one would be miserable. And it 
 was not as if Mr. Verney was a young man. At his age he must 
 be able to judge what it was allowable and right to do. To 
 dispute his wishes would be like disputing the wishes of her 
 father. It was all very plausible ; the only reason for doubt 
 arising from the fact that the case required so much argument 
 before Myra could make up her mind. She continued to weigh 
 the pros and cons, always putting her will into the balance 
 opposite to the side for which she happened at the moment to 
 be contending, until she really did not know what she desired, 
 or thought, or proposed to do, but left herself simply at the 
 mercy of circumstances. Very weak it was, very unlike Myra, 
 but Mr. Verney's influence was the magnet which controlled 
 both conscience and intellect. 
 
 They reached the Hallstadt inn, and found dinner waiting 
 — a good dinner, and well-dressed — a circumstance soothing 
 to Mr. Cameron, and rendering him less sensible to the annoy- 
 ance of the weather, which had again so clouded over, that 
 Mr. Verney's suggestion as to giving up the expedition to 
 Gosau was acknowledged by all to be the only thing 
 practicable. Even Rosamond agreed, but her eyes glistened 
 with tears, perceived both by Myra and Mr. Verney, but 
 absolutely unnoticed by Mr. Cameron, who had betaken him- 
 self to a careful study of' Murray,' in order to persuade Mr. 
 Verney that it was an absurdity to think of going, as he had 
 proposed, from Gosau to Golling, and that it would be much 
 better to return with them to Ischl. Mr. Verney had that 
 elastic indiarubber will which, by giving the impression of 
 yielding, serves to occupy time and attention, and in the end 
 is found precisely where it was in the beginning. He talked 
 to Mr. Cameron till the moment arrived when it was necessary 
 to start, and even when they seated themselves in the boat 
 which was to carry them to a spot called Gosau Miihl, where 
 they were to separate, no one could have undertaken to say 
 what he finally intended to do. To Myra he was very chilling, 
 and this appearance of indifference was so painful to her that 
 she could not resist placing herself near him, in the hope of
 
 246 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 having an opportunity for asking him to forgive and under- 
 stand her. So, at least, she said to herself, though what 
 there was to forgive when she had by no means resolved 
 to refuse his wish, was more, perhaps, than she could have 
 told. 
 
 After a short row, they landed near a solitary house — the 
 mill — at which they had been told that conveyances would be 
 found to take them either to Ischl or Gosau, as they desired ; 
 and a carriage there certainly was, but neither horse nor mule 
 to draw it. 
 
 Travellers to Gosau had already carried off all that were to 
 be had, though Mr. Verney was told that a cliar-a-banc would 
 be returning to Gosau in two hours' time, in which he might 
 possibly find a seat. As for Ischl, it seemed as impracticable 
 to get there as it was to procure accommodation at the mill. 
 Rosamond and Myra would gladly have changed their plans 
 again, and taken the risk of the wretched Gosau inn, but Mr. 
 Cameron's dignity was lowered by what he called the decep- 
 tion which had been practised upon him. An animal of some 
 kind he was resolved to have, and after a lengthened discus- 
 sion, the boatman who had brought them to the Miihl was 
 sent back to Hallstadt for a mule, whose ' local habitation' 
 he professed himself acquainted with ; the said mule having 
 to traverse the distance between Hallstadt and the mill by a 
 footpath along the shore of the lake. As this was likely to be 
 a very slow proceeding, nothing remained but to rest in a little 
 wooden room at the landing-place, or walk up and down the level 
 green space which formed the shore at this extremity of the lake, 
 and watch the clouds hovering over the cliffs on the opposite side. 
 Myra had no heart to sketch — no heart to talk. The cloud upon 
 her spirits was as heavy as the cloud gathering over her. She 
 drew near Mr. Verney, but he took no notice of her ; if he did 
 speak, it was in a tone of matter-of-fact indifference which was 
 much worse to her than anger. He did not even talk much to 
 Rosamond — perhaps he was afraid of attracting Mr. Cameron's 
 attention. Full an hour passed in this wearisome way, and then 
 Mr. Verney came back from a short walk to the mill, with the 
 intelligence that a man and a mule were in sight.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 24; 
 
 'Joyful news!' said Mr. Cameron in a solemn voice; an 
 exclamation which received no echo. 'And, of course, you 
 will come with us now,' he added, addressing Mr. Vcrncy. 
 Both Rosamond and Myra looked up anxiously. 
 
 < Thank you, no ; I don't think I can. The Gosau chara- 
 banc will be here directly. Can I collect anything for you ? 
 Are you certain everything was taken out of the boat ? ' This 
 question was put to Myra, and Mr. Verney drew near to listen 
 to the answer. Poor Myra really could not speak. Most 
 heartily ashamed of herself she was, but tears were streaming 
 down her cheeks, as she turned aside her head and bent down 
 over her carriage-bag. Mr. Cameron left the wooden room 
 and stalked along the shore, evidently supposing that his own 
 hasty movements would quicken those of the mule. Rosamond 
 was standing apart ; and Mr. Verney said to Myra coldly, ' I 
 am sorry to see you so distressed.' 
 
 ' If you would only forgive me ; ' and Myra strove hard to 
 recover her self-possession. 
 
 ' There is nothing to forgive. I respect scruples, however 
 weak I may think them.' 
 
 < If I were quite sure this was a scruple,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Are you not sure ? I can have no doubt of it. But don't 
 let us talk any more about it.' Mr. Verney was going to move 
 away. 
 
 ' Please stay, please. Yet you want to talk to Rosamond. 
 I know ; and she is dreadfully unhappy.' 
 
 ' No doubt ; but it cannot be otherwise. I must find, how- 
 ever, some mode of communication.' 
 
 'Yes, some; only not through me.' 
 
 •So as to avoid bringing you into any difficulty.' 
 
 ' O Mr. Verney ! it is not that I care for.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! I fancied it was.' 
 
 ' Difficulty ? I would brave any difficulty to help you.' 
 
 1 Would you ? ' He paused and locked at her steadily. 
 
 ' It is a question of right and wrong/ said Myra. 
 
 < Oh ! ' 
 
 ' Won't you believe me ? Do you not give me credit for 
 thinking it so.'
 
 24S A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' I am bound to do so.' 
 
 ' But bound or not, Mr. Verney, if you knew half the pain 
 it is to say no — when you have been so kind to me.' 
 
 ' My dear child,' he exclaimed suddenly, resuming his familiar 
 half-paternal tone ; ' it is mere nonsense to go on in this way. 
 I don't want you to do anything as a return for what you call 
 my kindness. If you have your little particular theories of 
 right and wrong, keep them as long as you can — only don't 
 let them quite stand in the way of common sense, because that 
 is a pity.' 
 
 'And you don't think this is common sense,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Of course I don't. If I did I should feel with you.' 
 
 Myra remained silent, and thought. Then she said, ' I 
 should not care if I were quite sure that papa and mamma 
 would agree with you.' 
 
 ' Mr. Cameron has not quite lost his intellect yet, I hope,' 
 was the reply. 
 
 ' And you could explain it all to him,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Explain what will want no explanation, when everything 
 comes out, as it must shortly,' he replied. ' You don't think, 
 Myra, I intend to keep up this farce a moment longer than 
 I can help. But don't worry yourself. I never thought of 
 having all this fuss when I spoke ; I merely felt that Rosa- 
 mond would like to have one line to tell her where I was, and 
 that I could send it better through you than through any one 
 else, because I have confidence in you.' 
 
 ' I could not betray you,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Betray ! ' and he laughed sarcastically ; ' Rosamond and 
 I are obliged to you ; but we have nothing that we fear to 
 have betrayed. We really are arrived at years of discre- 
 tion, though your superior wisdom may not have discovered 
 it.' 
 
 'Perhaps it is foolish in me,' said Myra, beginning to feel 
 ashamed of her scruples. 
 
 'There is no perhaps in the case,' lie said carelessly; 'but 
 here comes the mule, and I must say one word to Rosamond. 
 
 ' Stay, just one second. If you could be quite sure thai 
 papa and mamma would understand it.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 249 
 
 ' Dear child, don't trouble yourself any more about it. It is 
 not worth while.' 
 
 < Except that I could not bear to see Rosamond miserable.' 
 
 ' She will survive it ; so shall I.' 
 
 ' But you won't think the same of me as you did before.' 
 
 ' Never mind what I think ; but don't keep me now.' 
 
 'It shall be as you like,' said Myra hesitatingly. 
 
 ' The question is not what I like, but what I must,' replied 
 Mr. Vcrney, avoiding any direct thanks for the implied consent ; 
 ' but make your mind easy, my dear child, it will not be for 
 long. Trust me always,' he added, taking her hand in his old 
 kind winning way. 
 
 Myra was at the moment too relieved at finding herself re- 
 stored to her place in his regard to feel much compunction at 
 the terms on which the restoration had been effected. She 
 hurried away to help her father in his German conversation, 
 and Rosamond and Mr. Verney were left to say their fare- 
 wells alone. 
 
 Myra's romance of love would have been greatly lessened 
 if she had heard and seen them. Feeling there was indeed 
 on both sides, but vexation mingled with any sorrow which 
 Rosamond might have experienced ; and she was almost 
 pettish in her regrets and expostulations at his determination 
 to leave them, whilst Mr. Verney was alternately soothing 
 and impatient; uttering hurried expressions of affection, and 
 then turning to some observation about the journey, the late- 
 ness of the hour, or his own movements ; as if anxious to 
 escape from the obligation of saying what he knew he ought 
 to feel. It was only every now and then, when Rosamond 
 showed real regret, that he became in the least earnest ; and 
 when he did so, he made the most of his impulse — repeating 
 in a colder tone the endearing term which had escaped him 
 in an instant of excitement, and trying to cover the rapid 
 cooling process which began as soon as the word was spoken 
 by some little tenderness of manner. And so they parted.
 
 250 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 That parting was the beginning of a succession of provoking 
 little contretemps. Mrs. Cameron had caught cold at Aussee, 
 as every one might naturally have expected she would, and 
 Edmund could not join them as soon as he had promised. 
 Both these circumstances compelled the party to remain at 
 Ischl longer than they had intended, and this necessitated 
 giving up Vienna. The weather cleared a little, and Mr. 
 Cameron and Rosamond made two or three day-excursions ; 
 but Myra was generally left behind, because her mother really 
 could not spare her. Mrs. Cameron's eyesight was so weak, 
 that she found it difficult to amuse herself, and Rosamond had 
 a feeble voice and could not read aloud, and as a matter of 
 course Myra was sacrificed. Not that she felt it a sacrifice, 
 or at least to the extent which many persons might have 
 imagined. The effort of sacrifice lies in the will, and Myra's 
 will was given already. To destroy self was her profession, 
 and every occasion for exercising this profession roused her 
 energy ; so much so that she was sometimes surprised at her 
 own equanimity under vexations and disappointments which at 
 one time would have fretted her beyond endurance. 
 
 But though Myra did not look upon herself as a victim, 
 other persons did. Colonel and Mrs. Hcnsman came over 
 from St. Wolfgang, and found Myra alone with her mother, 
 and lamented that she was missing the beauties of the neigh- 
 bourhood ; and Mrs. Cameron herself mourned over it in a 
 lugubrious chanting tone, though she took no steps towards a 
 different arrangement, her only hope apparently being that 
 when Edmund arrived things would be different. Mrs. Hens- 
 man, a good-natured, sensible woman, who had taken a great 
 fancy to Myra, seized upon this idea, and worked it judiciously : 
 Mr. Cameron was obliged to be in England by a certain time ; 
 as soon therefore as Edmund came they were all to move home- 
 wards. So ; also : Colonel Hensman's destination was England;
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 251 
 
 he would be there probably a few days later than Mr. Cameron, 
 and if Myra could be allowed to remain behind with them at 
 St. Wolfgang, and then — moving more rapidly than would be 
 possible for Mrs. Cameron — meet her father and mother in 
 Paris, it would give her the opportunity of seeing some of the 
 places she had missed. Edmund's society would be a pleasure 
 to Mr. Cameron, and Mrs. Cameron would not miss Myra's 
 reading when they were travelling. It was a well-arranged 
 little plan, which, being put into the right groove, ran very 
 smoothly, and Myra was grateful and happy, and wondered 
 that every one should be so considerate for her. She had 
 indeed but one regret — for Rosamond, who she thought would 
 miss not having some one to whom she could speak of Mr. 
 Verney. 
 
 For beneath all this surface of matter-of-fact-ness the 
 romance of life was still working, and Myra never forgot it, 
 and, indeed, was not allowed to do so. How much or how 
 little real feeling Rosamond possessed, was a question which 
 it would have baffled even a keen scrutiniser of the human 
 heart to discover. One thing was clear, that she believed she 
 had a great deal ; and by acting upon the belief, to a certain 
 extent created the feeling. Being parted from Mr. Verney it 
 was necessary to be melancholy ; absent in manner, moody 
 and uncertain in humour, the latter being indeed a necessity 
 of nature rather than of circumstance. As a natural conse- 
 quence remarks were made, and Mr. and Mrs. Cameron were 
 somewhat uneasy, and a little suspicious, and thought that 
 perhaps, they had not been quite wise in throwing the young 
 people, as they were called, so much together ; all this attract- 
 ing a good deal of notice towards Rosamond, creating an 
 interest in her, which was just what she liked, since there was 
 not the slightest idea on the part of her parents of the extent 
 to which things had gone. As for Myra, she at once accepted 
 her sister's expression of feeling as reality, and treated her 
 accordingly. Rosamond carried on long conversations at 
 night, and gave way to sighs and secret allusions by day, not 
 to Myra's satisfaction, very much indeed to the reverse • but 
 it was all taken in perfect good faith, and Myra was becoming
 
 2C2 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 daily more and more convinced that Rosamond's affections 
 were irrevocably engaged, and that it would have been cruel 
 in her to have stood in the way of the one only comfort which 
 could be afforded her in Mr. Verney's absence. As to con- 
 science—when a person has once decided that it is better to 
 yield to the guidance of another in any doubtful case, it is 
 astonishing how soon conscience becomes silent, especially 
 when its voice is obeyed in all other instances. Myra did 
 not allow herself to question Mr. Verney's judgment, when 
 she had resolved upon following it, but went on in happy 
 unconsciousness of error, never disturbed except when she 
 received a short note from Mr. Verney, enclosing a letter 
 for Rosamond, and found herself obliged to resort to a little 
 manoeuvring in order to conceal the fact from her parents. 
 Then, indeed, she did feel uncomfortable, but as she was not 
 called upon to say what was untrue, and contrived to avoid 
 deliberately acting it, she escaped any severe self-reproach. 
 This first note was from Golling, and in it Mr. Verney an- 
 nounced his intention of making his way to Innsbruck, where 
 he hoped to find letters. Beyond this his route was, as usual, 
 uncertain. He might go to Meran and the Lago di Garda ; 
 he might take the Ampezzio Pass to Venice ; or, on the other 
 hand, he might give up any notion of Italy, and make his way 
 into Switzerland. Myra tried to find out if Rosamond had 
 received any more definite information as to his future move- 
 ments, but Rosamond merely smiled sweetly, and said she 
 supposed they were both equally wise, and then she put the 
 letter away in her writing-case with an air which said more 
 plainly than words, ' you are not to ask any more questions.' 
 Whatever Mr. Verney had written had, however, the effect of 
 making Rosamond very anxious to leave Ischl, and she was 
 almost out of temper when Edmund arrived, and tried to per- 
 suade his father that the delay of a couple of days might, with 
 good management and a different route, make no difference 
 as to the time of their reaching England. For almost the 
 fir.^t time since they had been abroad, Rosamond talked a 
 great deal about Mrs. Cameron's health, and the danger of 
 fatigue, and Myra in her simplicity was glad to think that as
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 253 
 
 she herself was going to stay behind at St. Wolfgang, Rosa- 
 mond, at least, would be thoughtful and watchful for her 
 mother. The party broke up at last, with the understanding 
 that Colonel and Mrs. Hensman were to bring Myra with 
 them to Paris, and Myra bade her own family good-bye with 
 a heart all the more open to enjoyment because she was not, 
 as on a previous occasion, disturbed by a newly-awakened 
 regret for the loss of Mr. Verney's society. 
 
 And thus once more Myra found herself in the pleasant 
 salon of the old conventual house, with its windows opening 
 above the blue lake ; and the jagged mountains — varied in 
 colour by every golden gleam which lit up their sharp points, 
 every purple shade which rested upon their deep recesses — 
 set before her, like a wonderful panorama, which she might 
 gaze upon and study, and imprint upon her memory to be a 
 vision of delight for all future years. It was vexatious at first 
 to find that she was not to enjoy her visit alone, but that Mrs. 
 Tracy and Miss Stuart were staying at the chateau. Myra 
 had a latent love of solitude and silence, which, though it was 
 overruled by the buoyancy of spirit natural to her age, exhi- 
 bited itself on all occasions when her feelings were touched. 
 Nothing excited her like the beauty of nature, but the excite- 
 ment could not be shared. When in travelling her heart 
 beat quickly, and her eyes grew dim with sudden tears as 
 the glorious mountain peaks and the fair valleys of the Bava- 
 rian Tyrol spread themselves before her, she instinctively 
 turned aside from the rest of the party, half-surprised, half- 
 ashamed of her own emotions. A light tone or a trivial 
 remark jarred upon her at such moments like a false note in 
 music, and even Mr. Verney's poetical admiration failed to 
 touch the chord which could harmonise with her own feelings. 
 She needed something deeper, more reverent, more nearly 
 approaching to worship. If she had been alone she would 
 have knelt in thankfulness and awe, for in no other way could 
 she have given vent to the fulness of that deep and pure 
 delight which at times overwhelmed her. And she had looked 
 for such enjoyment at St. Wolfgang. She had pictured to 
 herself a morning spent in the garden, revelling in the gor-
 
 254 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 geous colours of the flowers and the delicately-pencilled foli- 
 age of the shrubs, watching the shadows on the hills, and the 
 silvery sparkle on the water, and dreaming — no, not dream- 
 ing, but feeling — forgetting care, perplexity, regret, forgetting 
 above all herself, in the sense of all-pervading and mysterious 
 beauty. 
 
 Mrs. Tracy's rather monotonous voice, and Mrs. Hensman's 
 sensible remarks, were but ill suited to such anticipations, and 
 Myra's first feeling of disappointment, when the latter proposed, 
 the morning after her arrival, that they should all take their 
 work and spend a pleasant sociable morning in the pavilion, 
 "was very great. She could have found it in her heart to 
 complain that Mrs. Hensman had deceived her, and she said 
 to herself that if she had known there were to be other visitors 
 she would not have accepted the invitation. But Myra was 
 very unfair upon poor Mrs. Hensman. There had been no 
 deception in the case. When she invited Myra, she had not 
 known herself that Mrs. Tracy and Miss Stuart would be her 
 guests likewise. They had been stationary at the little inn, 
 detained day after day by illness. Mrs. Hensman had pro- 
 vided them with many necessary comforts, and shown them 
 great kindness, but her offer of rooms at the ch&teau had been 
 always declined till the very day of Myra's arrival, when some 
 impertinent behaviour on the part of the disagreeable landlord 
 had so distressed Mrs. Tracy, that from mere nervousness and 
 alarm she had taken refuge with her new friends, hoping, as 
 she said, to be able to remove to Ischl in a very few days. 
 
 Myra would have cared less, she would scarcely, indeed, 
 have cared at all, if Charlotte Stuart had formed one of the 
 sociable pavilion party, but she was not well enough to appear 
 at breakfast, and Myra found herself condemned to a morning 
 of needlework and conversation ; the former consisting on her 
 own part of some fancy knitting, which she had not once taken 
 up since she left home, and in which she had not the slightest 
 interest, whilst the latter was merely an interchange of remarks 
 upon the beauty of the view, varied by Mrs. Tracy's account 
 of her voyage from India, and the difficulties she had ex- 
 perienced in travelling through the Tyrol. Myra listened to
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 255 
 
 the latter for some time, in the hope of gaining some informa- 
 tion as to the antecedents of her new acquaintances, but Mrs. 
 Tracy, though she talked freely upon other subjects, was 
 singularly reserved on all points which regarded herself or 
 her niece, and Myra at length, heartily tired, ventured to take 
 up a book and steal away to a little distance, where — half 
 hidden by a flowering shrub — she might occupy herself in 
 some degree, and at least for a short time, according to her 
 own ideas of enjoyment. 
 
 The book was a scries of essays. It had been marked for 
 her by Mr. Verney, and Myra turned over the pages, reading 
 different portions as revelations of Mr. Verney's own character. 
 All that was noble, generous, unprejudiced, beautiful in ex- 
 pression, or pure in feeling, had touched him with sympathy 
 and admiration. And there were marks of reference to other 
 books, quotations, similes ; the volume seemed to Myra a mine 
 of poetry, wisdom, and valuable information. She felt proud 
 of his friendship for her, it seemed to ennoble whilst it humbled 
 her. She thought of her sister almost with envy. Rosamond 
 would have his companionship always. Would she appreciate 
 it, was a question which Myra did not think of asking. The 
 habit of her own mind was reverence, and Rosamond's outward 
 gifts had always somewhat dazzled her, and now, seen in the 
 light of Mr. Verney's admiration, she became actually idealised, 
 and Myra, indulging the romance which the knowledge of their 
 engagement awakened, laid aside her book, and lost herself in 
 a reverie of the perfection of such a marriage — beauty, refine- 
 ment, amiability, intellect, poetry, and nobility of heart united — 
 and she herself — it was the one thought of self which entered 
 into the dream — the sharer and chosen confidante of their 
 happiness. 
 
 The reverie was interrupted by Miss Stuart. She came 
 into the garden walking with the slow step of illness, and 
 drawing a shawl round her. Since Myra's former visit her 
 complexion had become more transparent, and the hectic 
 colour on her cheeks was nearly gone, and now the search- 
 ing, anxious eyes were almost too large — too full for beauty. 
 Whatever characteristics of temper and mind there might have
 
 256 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 been in the small firm mouth, the short upper lip, the chiselled 
 nose with its rounded nostril, and the square open brow, were 
 all lost in the one expression of hopeless unrest. 
 
 And the voice with which she spoke to Myra told the same 
 tale as those lovely piteous eyes. 
 
 'Have I disturbed you, Miss Cameron? I ought not 
 to do so. It is so pleasant to be quiet on such a perfect 
 day.' 
 
 ' I like it,' said Myra, 'but I don't think all persons do. 
 Won't you sit down ? ' and as she spoke she left her seat, 
 and placed herself on the grass, leaning against the trunk of 
 a tree. 
 
 ' You should not sit there,' said Miss Stuart, still standing. 
 ' You will take cold.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I never take cold. Please sit down, and I will fetch 
 you a cushion from the house.' 
 
 ' Don't on any account trouble yourself. The chair will do 
 perfectly well, but indeed you ought to be careful. I said just 
 as you say once.' 
 
 ' Did your illness come on with a cold?' asked Myra. 
 
 ' Yes — no,' and a slight blush overspread Miss Stuart's 
 cheek. ' It came on gradually ; it is a kind of complication ; 
 no one knows what is the matter with me.' 
 
 ' You must try London physicians,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Yes, when I go to England.' 
 
 ' And you are not going now ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know. I never do know anything till the time 
 comes.' 
 
 ' It must be very disagreeable to live in uncertainty,' said 
 Myra. 
 
 ' Yes, for some people.' 
 
 Myra was inclined to say, ' Is it so to you ? ' but the per- 
 sonal question would have seemed impertinent. 
 
 ' How one ought to enjoy this day ! ' continued Miss Stuart, 
 as she sat down in Myra's chair, and languidly gazed around 
 her. 
 
 ' One can't help enjoying it,' observed Myra. 
 
 The only answer was a sorrowful smile, and Myra added,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 25? 
 
 'At least when one is blessed with good health. I am afraid 
 you are too ill to enjoy anything.' 
 
 ' I am soothed,' was the reply ; ' and that is in a measure 
 enjoyment.' 
 
 ' I suppose it may be, where people have suffered much,' 
 replied Myra. 
 
 ' Yes, there is a good deal of compensation in this world. 
 People learn as they go on in life to be contented upon very 
 little. But you are so young, you will scarcely understand 
 that theory.' 
 
 ' I am more than sixteen,' said Myra. 
 
 ' I daresay that seems old to you. I know it did once to 
 me.' 
 
 ' It seems not like real age, but like drawing near to it,' 
 said Myra. 
 
 And Miss Stuart slightly laughed as she inquired, ' And 
 what do you call real age ? ' 
 
 ' Being old enough to have sorrows and trials,' answered 
 Myra. 
 
 ' You are right ; that is age, and there are some who never 
 have known youth, but ' 
 
 ' There is the servant with the post from Ischl,' exclaimed 
 Myra, interrupting, and then apologising. She ran forward to 
 meet him, and returned with two letters. ' I am so sorry there 
 are none for you.' 
 
 Charlotte Stuart's hand, which had been stretched out to 
 take the letters, dropped as if it had been paralysed. 
 
 One of Myra's envelopes fell on the ground ; as she picked 
 it up she said, ' I am surprised this has ever reached me, it is 
 directed so illegibly — just look.' She held out the envelope 
 for Miss Stuart to see it. 
 
 'Is it the handwriting of a friend of yours?' The 
 question was put in a hard ringing tone, like the striking of 
 metal. 
 
 ' Yes, a very great friend, a Mr. Verney. He has been with 
 us quite lately. He only left us the other day.' Myra was 
 scarcely thinking of what she said, she was so engrossed in 
 her letter ; and when Miss Stuart repeated, ' The other day ? 
 
 R
 
 258 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 lately ? do you mean at Ischl ? ' she replied in the same absent 
 way, 'Yes, last week,' and went on reading. 
 
 ' I think I must go in,' was uttered in a faint voice, and 
 then Myra woke up to consciousness again. Miss Stuart 
 was standing, or rather leaning against the chair. She said 
 to Myra, 'Please ask my aunt to come to me,' and Myra 
 hastened to the pavilion with a feeling of self-reproach at 
 having been so absorbed, yet not without a sensation of relief 
 when Mrs. Tracy said, ' You had better leave my niece to me, 
 my dear Miss Cameron, I will take her into the house.' Mrs. 
 Hensman went away also, and Myra was left in the pavilion 
 alone. 
 
 And then she read her letters in peace. Mr. Verncy's was 
 singularly interesting, giving a short account of his movements, 
 and a long account of what he had felt and thought. In this 
 respect it was the only unreserved communication Myra had 
 ever received from him, yet it contained no reference to his 
 engagement, though a note to Rosamond was enclosed. In 
 the postscript he said, ' I should not wonder if we were to 
 meet again before you reach England,' but he gave no chic 
 as to his route, and did not say where letters would reach 
 him. It was quite a downfall in feeling to turn from this 
 imaginative and poetical and almost confidential letter to 
 Annette's gossip about school. Myra had nearly forgotten 
 the existence of Mrs. de Lancey, and the remarks on the 
 French and German teachers, and the peculiarities of the 
 masters, were profoundly indifferent to her. Annette could 
 write and think of nothing else. Naturally enough, St. John's 
 Wood was her world, and quite as large and important to her 
 as the world of which Mr. Verney was the centre could be 
 to Myra ; but romance is not generally sympathising. Myra 
 hurried through the crossed page — feeling extremely provoked 
 that any one should think of writing across on thin foreign 
 paper, and not understanding that Annette had but two or 
 three sheets in her possession and did not know how to get 
 at more — till she came to a sentence written at the side of 
 the page, and corrected and underlined. Myra could make 
 out the words Mrs. Patty, and Miss Greaves, and something
 
 A GLIMrSE OF THE WORLD. 259 
 
 about a message, and India, and it was not till after much 
 careful examination that she could manage to read one 
 sentence. ' Mrs. de Lancey says, that the Charlotte Stuart 
 who was Miss Greaves's friend has left India in ill health.' 
 Then came something almost entirely illegible, the only 
 words which could be deciphered being — 'engaged to Mr. 
 
 ' whom, it was impossible to say ; though, according to 
 
 Annette's usual style, there were two notes of admiration after 
 the name. 
 
 The < whom ' signified but little to Myra just then, but the 
 fact of the engagement was interesting and explanatory of 
 Miss Stuart's reserve. Still there was a little natural curiosity 
 awakened as to the illegible word. The first letter might be 
 a V, or a T, or a W, and Myra recalled all the names she had 
 heard which might fit what appeared to be the number of 
 letters ; all except that of Verney, which did not suggest itself, 
 until, holding the paper at a distance, and catching what might 
 be called the general effect, it flashed across her suddenly. 
 For a moment she felt thunderstruck, but looking at the name 
 again, she read it as Vernon, or, possibly, Varney, or — she 
 could not be sure what it was, only, it could not be Verney. 
 She hurried from the pavilion j why, she did not know. It 
 never occurred to her that she was hurrying from her own 
 thoughts. On her way to the house she met Mrs. Tracy, 
 looking even more anxious than was her wont. Myra's impulse 
 was to join her, and inquire how Miss Stuart was ; and the 
 short nervous answer, ' Better, thank you,' was given ; and 
 then they walked slowly side by side without speaking, till 
 Mrs. Tracy said abruptly, ' I think you have a friend — Mr. 
 Verney ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' answered Myra ; and as she spoke, her heart seemed 
 to stop beating. 
 
 1 Should you mind telling me something about him ? ' con- 
 tinued Mrs. Tracy. 
 
 ' No, certainly not. I don't know much • he is a great 
 friend. Would you mind sitting down for a minute ? ' Myra 
 pointed to a garden seat.
 
 260 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 1 Oh ! no, not at all. I am afraid you are not strong. Are 
 you tired this morning ? ' 
 
 Myra waived the answer, and said, ' Mr. Verney is the 
 nephew of a Colonel Verney who lives near us.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I know. A son of the elder brother, and just re- 
 turned from India.' 
 
 ' He came back some months ago. He talks of going back 
 again, only his health is bad.' 
 
 ' And I think — I imagine — he must have been with you 
 abroad.' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' And he has left you. Can you tell me where he is to be 
 found ? ' 
 
 'He was at Innsbruck ; I don't know where he is now.' 
 
 ' And you cannot tell where a letter would be likely to reach 
 him ? ' 
 
 ' No ; he does not say.' 
 
 ' Thank you. Excuse my questions. I have a little business 
 with him, that is all.' 
 
 Mrs. Tracy rose and moved away, and as she left the seat, 
 Colonel Hensman came up to it. 
 
 ' What ! all alone ? It is very rude of my wife ; I must go 
 and scold her.' 
 
 ' I like being alone,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Oh ! poetical, are you ? Well, I hope you have been 
 enjoying yourself to your heart's content. There is nothing 
 to disturb you here.' 
 
 ' No,' replied Myra ; ' it is deliciously quiet.' 
 
 ' So that poor love-sick girl says ; I have been telling Mrs. 
 Tracy that she should not indulge her. If she were taken to 
 Vienna, or any place where she could have something to distract 
 her thoughts, there might be some hope for her ; there will be 
 none soon if they let her brood over things as she does now.' 
 
 ' Is that what is the matter with her?' asked Myra; and 
 her voice faltered. 
 
 Colonel Hensman laughed. ' How you young ladies catch 
 at the least rumour of a love story ! But you must ask Mrs. 
 Hensman to tell you ; she knows more than I do.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 261 
 
 ' I should not like to ask her,' said Myra. 
 
 ' But you don't mind asking me. Is that because I am 
 more tender-hearted ? I shall disappoint you, though. I know 
 nothing about it, except that some good-for-nothing fellow is 
 playing fast and loose with her. I can't tell you the name, 
 and a story is nothing without that.' 
 
 Colonel Hensman walked off, and Myra took up Mr. 
 Verney's letter again. But with what a changed feeling ! 
 This dull pain at her heart — this aching uneasiness — how 
 was she to bear it. What was to be done to relieve it ? 
 Did she really suspect, and if so, why did she not at once 
 take some step to find out the truth ? She began to read, 
 but something seemed to stop her ; the meaning of the words 
 seemed altered, they gave her no pleasure ; and she went up 
 to her own room, and brought out from her drawer a little box 
 containing the few other letters which she had received from 
 Mr. Verney. They were all laid before her ; but still she 
 did not look at them more closely, and they remained on the 
 table whilst Myra walked up and down her room, because 
 she could not bear to sit quiet, trying at the same time to 
 think how foolish it was, how like her own hasty judgment, to 
 let an idea gain possession of her which could have no founda- 
 tion ; then taking up a book, and after a few minutes wander- 
 ing off from it to a repetition of the same arguments — the 
 same reasons why she was not to think what she could not 
 help thinking, to suspect what she could not help suspecting. 
 The summons to luncheon obliged her to appear in the dining- 
 room. Charlotte Stuart was not there ; she very seldom did 
 appear at luncheon, so Mrs. Hensman said, and her aunt 
 wished to remain upstairs with her. Colonel Hensman made 
 some allusion to the cause of Miss Stuart's low spirits, which 
 was instantly checked by his wife, and Myra saw from Mrs. 
 Hensman's manner that there was no likelihood of obtaining 
 any information from her. A drive was proposed for the 
 afternoon. Myra did her best to appear pleased, and felt, 
 indeed, that it was the only thing under present circumstances 
 which could be in any way soothing to her; but the slumber- 
 ing pain awoke again when, as she was leaving the room to
 
 262 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 dress, Colonel Hensman called out — ' If you have any letters 
 for the post you must let me have them now, as I am going to 
 send into Ischl.' 
 
 Mr. Verney's letter to Rosamond was to be forwarded, and 
 for the first time for many days Myra's conscience was aroused 
 to the question, ' Was her part in the correspondence justifi- 
 able ?** Too late it was then to ask ; too late to draw back. 
 The letter was sent, but the weight upon Myra's spirits grew 
 heavier ; and the sensitive, self-reproaching heart, tortured by 
 affection, and bewildered by sophistry, could find no repose 
 but in a forced gaiety, which was a strain upon the powers both 
 of body and mind,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 In four days' time they were to leave St. Wolfgang. Those 
 four days were to be given up to excursions, and little else 
 was spoken of but guides, mules, char-a-bancs, and provisions. 
 Mrs. Tracy and Miss Stuart lived apart. Myra scarcely saw 
 the former except at luncheon, and Miss Stuart was said to be 
 too unwell to leave her room. She also was to move to Ischl, 
 and from thence to Vienna, when the party broke up. This 
 was all that Myra could learn of her plans. Several other 
 persons were now staying at the chateau, but they were chiefly 
 foreigners. Mrs. Hensman was much engaged with them, and 
 though very kind to Myra, could give her but little personal at- 
 tention ; and so Myra carried her lonely burden about, finding 
 no one with whom to share it, at times forgetting it, then hav- 
 ing it brought back by some chance observation ; and then 
 again arguing against conviction, and even conscience — carry- 
 ing on a vain struggle with the truthfulness which was the great 
 and precious gift bestowed upon her by nature, and which up 
 to this period she had so carefully cultivated and cherished. 
 
 The last day came, the day before they were to set out for 
 Paris. Myra had that morning ascended the Schaffberg, in 
 order to obtain the earliest and clearest view of the mountains 
 and lakes of the Salzkammergut. She had returned very tired 
 to rest in her chamber the early part of the day ; and as she 
 closed her eyes, all the wonderful scenes upon which she had 
 been gazing floated before her, and the enchantment deadened 
 the secret pain, and she fell asleep tranquil and almost happy. 
 She was awakened, after a long rest, by a gentle tap at the 
 door ; and when she started up, Charlotte Stuart was standing 
 before her. An open letter was in her hand, her look was 
 haggard, and her breath came quick and faint. Sleep had 
 scarcely left Myra, and but for the glorious sunlight streaming 
 over the lake and flickering upon the walls of her apartment,
 
 264 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 she might have thought, as she looked upon that wan white 
 figure, that she was still dreaming. 
 
 ' Don't move ; ' Miss Stuart drew near the sofa ; ' only let 
 me speak to you. They will miss me soon and search for me. 
 Listen, while there is time.' 
 
 ' But you are ill,' exclaimed Myra, scarce knowing what she 
 said. 
 
 ' Yes, very ill. Tell me — you know this handwriting ? ' 
 
 Myra looked at the envelope held before her. ' Yes, it is 
 Mr. Verney's.' 
 
 1 Your Mr. Verney — your friend— the same who wrote to 
 you the other day — there is no doubt ? ' 
 
 ' None, so far as I can tell.' 
 
 ' But you must be sure. The Mr. Verney who — who is en- 
 gaged to your sister Rosamond ? ' 
 
 The hollow laugh which accompanied the question sounded 
 like the tones of insanity ; and as Myra delayed to answer, 
 Miss Stuart caught hold of her hand and grasped it tightly, 
 whilst, looking at her fixedly, she said, ' Speak, I must know. 
 I will — I do know.' 
 
 'If you do know, there is no need to speak,' was Myra's 
 hesitating and evasive answer. 
 
 The grasp laid upon her hand relaxed, and Charlotte Stuart 
 hid her face upon the couch, and a low wail of agony broke 
 from her. Myra made a movement of sympathy, but the un- 
 happy girl turned round almost fiercely. ' Don't pity me, I 
 have no need of pity. He loves me ; he does not love her. 
 Pity her — warn her. He loves me — yes ; he tells me he loves 
 me. God forgive him my misery ! ' 
 
 Myra could not echo the prayer. A gulf seemed to have 
 opened before her in which all trust in human honour, all con- 
 fidence in human truth, were buried. 
 
 ' Who told you of his engagement ? ' she asked in a trem- 
 bling voice. 
 
 Instead of replying, Miss Stuart placed in Myra's hands 
 another letter in Miss Greaves's handwriting, and pointed to 
 the following passage: — 'I cannot bring myself to believe a 
 report which I have heard to-day, though it will account for
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 265 
 
 all which has been so inexplicable to me in Mr. Vcrney's con- 
 duct to yourself. It has been told me, upon excellent authority, 
 that after travelling with the Camerons for more than a month 
 he has engaged himself to Rosamond. I need not say how 
 anxiously I shall look for a contradiction of this rumour from 
 you, and for an assurance that your relations with him remain 
 unaltered.' 
 
 ' I can contradict it. You know 1 can,' continued Char- 
 lotte, her large lustrous eyes gazing wildly upon Myra. ' He 
 writes to me, and loves me. It is the world's talk. The 
 cruel, cruel world.' 
 
 ' If he loves you, you cannot be miserable,' said Myra ; but 
 a pang of torturing self-reproach shot through her at the falsity 
 of such comfort. 
 
 ' If — there is no if. It is she who is false, she who has 
 tried to win him from me. But he is mine still, — my all ! ' 
 
 Myra unconsciously repeated the words ' my all ; ' they 
 sounded to her profane. 
 
 ' Tell her he is my all ; she cannot take him from me. 
 Oh ! she cannot, she cannot.' 
 
 ' It is Mr. Verney's own doing,' replied Myra. 
 
 1 Then is it true ? Oh ! say it is not true ; ' and again the 
 long low wail echoed through the apartment. 
 
 ' Stay,' said Myra, rousing herself from the sense of 
 wretchedness which was so bewildering to her faculties : 
 'what is true or what is not true, I am not at liberty to say. 
 You must inquire of Mr. Verney himself; only remember that 
 my sister is in no way to blame.' 
 
 ' He tells me nothing. I cannot inquire. I do not know 
 where to seek for him. But you know.' 
 
 'No,' replied Myra. ' I know no more of his movements 
 than you do, except' 
 
 ' But your sister knows. He writes to her? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, indeed you must not question me in this way,' 
 said Myra ; ' but I may see him soon, and if you would trust 
 
 me with a letter or a message' she stopped. It was 
 
 treachery to Rosamond, but pity was too strong for her.
 
 266 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Miss Stuart answered eagerly, ' Yes, I trust you. You will 
 help me — yet you are her sister.' 
 
 'I will try to do what is right,' continued Myra; and 
 she added, after a moment's pause, ' I shall, I must see Mr. 
 Verney.' 
 
 ' See him ! look,' — and Charlotte Stuart held out her 
 transparent hand — 'my life is wasting away; my days are 
 numbered. Yet of those precious days would I gladly give 
 up all save one- — if that one might be spent with him.' 
 
 Before Myra could reply, a knock was heard at the door, 
 and Mrs. Tracy entered. 
 
 In one instant Miss Stuart had recovered her composure. 
 The few words which she spoke in answer to her aunt's affec- 
 tionate reprimand for having left her room were uttered quite 
 calmly, and with the same air of reserve and self-command 
 which on ordinary occasions was habitual to her. Without 
 making the least allusion to the subject of their conversation, 
 she went back to her own room almost immediately, Mrs. 
 Tracy'accompanying her, and Myra was left to solitude and 
 reflection. 
 
 Mrs. Patty Kingsbury was right. There is no trial so 
 overwhelming to the affections and principle of the young, as 
 that which first destroys their confidence in one whom they 
 have accustomed themselves to respect. The shock of that 
 moral earthquake is a shock which is felt for life. Yet, better 
 it may be that it should be experienced early — better that it 
 should come with one great blow from which the elasticity of 
 youth may partially recover, than that distrust should eat 
 into the heart with the slow destructiveness of the canker- 
 worm. The pain, indeed, is greater, but the wound is not so 
 deadly. Myra had been to blame. She had indeed been de- 
 ceived, but the deception was of her own creation. That, how- 
 ever, was a consciousness yet to come. In the first moments 
 of conviction, her chief thought was still to extenuate Mr. 
 Vei ney's conduct, to seek for explanations in circumstances of 
 which she knew nothing. 
 
 All possible and impossible motives suggested themselves, 
 find were one by one rejected ; and Myra's excitement of feel-
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 267 
 
 ing increased, her brain worked more restlessly, and a throb- 
 bing headache made her every moment less capable of thought, 
 whilst thought appeared to her more and more necessary. 
 For she must act, she must write or speak, she must in some 
 way communicate with Mr. Verney. To be made the instru- 
 ment of his treachery by being the medium of conveying his 
 letters, was no longer possible ; and her own weakness in ever 
 having consented to place herself in such a position stood out 
 still more clearly before her. She felt herself condemned in 
 her own sight, condemned also, as she assuredly would be, in 
 the sight of her parents : a party to deceit with her sister, a 
 party to Mr. Verney's treachery, — because she had trusted 
 and believed in him, because she had wilfully put aside her own 
 knowledge of right, and turned from the instinct of her honest 
 conscientiousness, and feared his sneers. 
 
 Myra did not hate Mr. Verney. She was too generous — 
 too true and simple-minded, to seek any excuse for herself by 
 a burden laid upon another ; but a sense of unutterable help- 
 lessness, insecurity — an aching distrust for which there could 
 be no cure, made her heart turn faint, and her limbs tremble, 
 whilst she rested her head on the sofa pillow, unable to find 
 even the merciful relief of tears. She was in this state when 
 Mrs. Tracy once more knocked at the door, and asked for 
 a few moments' conversation. Myra had as yet but little 
 practice in self-command. A nervous, irritable, impetuous 
 temperament had been her torment from childhood. She 
 could never conceal when she was unhappy, though she could 
 not merely conceal, but subdue her temper. When Mrs. 
 Tracy came up to her kindly, and begged her not to disturb 
 herself, and then sat down and asked, with somewhat of a 
 mother's thoughtfulness, whether she was over-tired or ill, the 
 feeling of oppression which seemed to have dried up the foun- 
 tain of her tears was melted, and her almost uncontrollable im- 
 pulse was to tell everything, to ask advice, to throw herself once 
 more upon guidance, and so, if it might only be, to have rest — 
 rest for the conscience, rest for the heart. 
 
 But she had no opportunity for yielding to the temptation. 
 Mrs. Tracy began immediately in her very quiet rather slow
 
 26S A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 tone : ' 1 would not have disturbed you if I could have avoided 
 it, but I am obliged to speak for Charlotte's sake. You know 
 how we are situated with regard to Mr. Verney. I have seen 
 the report in Miss Greaves's letter, but I cannot find out 
 whether you confirm it ; and, indeed, it is very important that 
 I should know.' 
 
 ' If you would not ask me ! ' exclaimed Myra, ' I told Miss 
 Stuart that she should write to Mr. Verney. I cannot answer 
 or say anything. 
 
 ' In those few words you have said enough,' replied Mrs. 
 Tracy somewhat haughtily. ' I can, of course, quite under- 
 stand. Only, Miss Cameron, for your sister's sake, it is fair 
 that you should know the character of the man to whom she 
 is willing to give herself.' 
 
 Myra's face became rigid in the effort to keep down her 
 struggling feelings. 
 
 Mrs. Tracy went on : • Two years ago Mr. Verney became 
 attached to my niece. Her father was then in possession of a 
 good fortune, and he was likely to increase it. Mr. Verney 
 knew this, and I do not think I do him any injustice when I say 
 that money is a great consideration with him. He is a man 
 of self-indulgent, extravagant habits. At one time he gambled 
 considerably, though when he first became acquainted with 
 Charlotte, he professed to have given up the practice. He 
 won her affections slowly, by the most unremitting attentions. 
 He flattered and sympathised with her, and they had lite- 
 rary pursuits in common. She disliked his principles at first, 
 but by degrees she became accustomed to them, and' — Mrs. 
 Tracy paused, and drew a long breath — ' that is the saddest 
 part — he calls himself a Christian ; for any definite faith he 
 possesses he might as well call himself a Mahometan. They 
 have been engaged now for nearly a year. At first the 
 marriage was to have taken place at once, but my brother-in- 
 law's affairs were rather embarrassed at the time, and there 
 was a delay in consequence. It was thought that they would 
 soon come right, and Mr. Verney exerted himself very much 
 to set them right. He lent money, and mixed himself up with 
 business, entirely, as he said, from love to Charlotte, and I
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 263 
 
 believed him. I believe him now. I have no doubt of his 
 love for her, but ' 
 
 1 But what ? ' exclaimed Myra. 
 
 *I believe he wants moral courage, and there is nothing so 
 cruel as cowardice. He knew from the first that his own in- 
 come would not be sufficient to marry upon, because he had 
 involved himself by his gambling debts and extravagance. 
 He did not dare say what his real condition was, and so he 
 speculated, hoping to retrieve what he had lost. 
 
 ' Things became worse and worse. He was never open 
 either with Charlotte or her father. It was always delay, ex- 
 cuse, and hope— hope which was never fulfilled. He left India 
 partly because his health had suffered from the climate, partly 
 with the idea of raising some money that was needed for my 
 brother-in-law's business, which, in fact, had become in a 
 great measure his own. When we parted, I entreated him to 
 break off his engagement, or at least, to tell Charlotte exactly 
 how he was circumstanced. I felt, and he felt, that it was ex- 
 cessively unlikely the marriage could ever take place. I saw 
 that uncertainty was rapidly undermining Charlotte's health, 
 and I was quite sure that she was brave enough to bear the 
 truth ; but I could get nothing from him. If for one moment 
 I brought him to the point of courage and sincerity, the next 
 he slid from my grasp, and everything was as vague as before. 
 In my heart I felt convinced that he would have been thank- 
 ful to be free. He loved Charlotte unquestionably, but not 
 well enough to make sacrifices for her. He is a man of the 
 world, Miss Cameron, and no man of the world can ever make 
 self second. He suggested that I should tell her everything, 
 and should persuade her to take the first step towards breaking 
 off the engagement. So mean it was in him ! so cowardly ! 
 He wished to screen himself from any blame which the world 
 might attach to him. When I declined to interfere, he strove 
 to throw the responsibility of the consequences upon me. But 
 I have seen enough of life, Miss Cameron, to know that it 
 is the greatest of mistakes to undertake a duty which does 
 not belong to you. Mr. Verney's affairs and Mr. Verney's 
 marriage were in his own hands. Neither my brother-in-law
 
 2'/o A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 nor my niece would have endured any interference from me. 
 And, indeed, so unstable is Mr. Verney, and from his moral 
 cowardice so little to be depended upon, that even if I had con- 
 sented to open the question with my niece, I could not have 
 reckoned upon his support. He would have allowed me to 
 urge the breaking off of the engagement, and then, when he 
 saw her distress, he would have turned round upon me with 
 reproaches.' 
 
 Mrs. Tracy paused for an instant, but Myra made no obser- 
 vation. Except a nervous movement of her hands, there were 
 no outward signs of feeling. Mrs. Tracy went on : < Directly 
 after Mr. Verney arrived in England he wrote, begging that 
 Charlotte and myself would follow him. He spoke hopefully 
 of his prospects, and appeared excessively anxious about 
 Charlotte's health. My brother-in-law insisted upon our going. 
 He is a man of essentially weak character ; his whole life 
 has been a failure, and he believes in every new plan which 
 is suggested to him. Moreover, he had been from the first 
 entirely under Mr. Verney's influence. What he expected 
 from our visit to England, except the possible improvement 
 of Charlotte's health, I cannot say. For myself, I had no 
 hope of improvement in that respect from anything except 
 certainty, it mattered not of what kind. It is suspense which 
 has worn, and is still wearing away this poor child's life. 
 
 ' As to Mr. Verney, I believe his love rose and fell with the 
 condition of his pecuniary affairs. If he could marry Charlotte 
 and live in ease and comfort, he would be glad to do so ; and 
 when first he came home I have no doubt he persuaded him- 
 self it would be possible, and wrote to us accordingly. But 
 his views were all dreamy. He did not really know what he 
 expected, and before we reached Trieste everything was as 
 unsettled as ever. We were met there by letters telling us 
 that we should do better not to come to England ; that it 
 would be more economical to be on the continent ; that he 
 would join us.' 
 
 ' But you have not seen him ? ' exclaimed Myra. 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Mrs. Tracy ; ' I have seen him for one half 
 hour ; the first night of our arrival. He refused to see
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 271 
 
 Charlotte, he refused to be open with her. He said, as 
 before, that he would write to her. So he left her, I believe, 
 to die.' 
 
 Myra buried her face in her hands. It was at that very 
 time that Mr. Verney had engaged himself to Rosamond ! 
 
 'Now remember,' continued Mrs. Tracy, 'that when I tell 
 you all this, I do not in the least accuse Mr. Verney of de- 
 liberate treachery. Even if, as I fully believe, he has engagi d 
 himself to your sister, and has thus most miserably deceived 
 both her and Charlotte, I believe there has been no precon- 
 certed cruelty to cither. Mr. Verney is not an unfeeling man ; 
 on the contrary, he is rather tender-heartod ; there is nothing 
 he dislikes more than the sight of pain, and it is because of 
 this dislike that he has shrunk from saying to my niece what 
 he knew would distress her. Possibility also is everything 
 with him. That which he can do easily he will do readily. 
 And what I am now going to say I must beg you to believe 
 is from no wish to make inquiries which may seem impertinent. 
 But, as there is no doubt that the pecuniary difficulties which 
 have stood in the way of his marriage with Charlotte have 
 cooled rather than stimulated his love, so if a marriage with 
 your sister has in any way been made practicable to him— the 
 very fact of its practicability is likely to have excited what he 
 may fancy an affection for her. He would fall in love, or 
 imagine himself in love, with the heiress of twenty thousand 
 pounds more readily than with the heiress of five — not from 
 any deliberate calculation, but simply because in the one case 
 he would see his way to the attainment of his end more quickly 
 than in the other.' 
 
 Myra looked up shocked, and a faint smile passed over 
 Mrs. Tracy's face. ' We must not be hard on human nature, 
 my dear. Mr. Verney would not be a bad man because he 
 unconsciously calculated consequences, but he will be a bad 
 man if he is not open with your parents and your sister. I 
 can talk to you without the slightest wish to bring Mr. Verney 
 back to my niece. On the contrary, I have but one earnest 
 desire — to have all connection and communication with him 
 broken off. But it is due to you to say that the same dim-
 
 272 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 culties which have prevented his carrying out his engagement 
 with Charlotte not only exist still, to my certain knowledge, 
 but are very greatly increased. His income, if he should 
 return to India, would be claimed by his creditors, and he 
 would be utterly unable to support a wife and family, for 
 whatever private fortune he may at one time have had is now 
 gone, swallowed up in the wreck of my brother-in-law's affairs. 
 The latter fact is by no means generally known. There have 
 been hopes of retrieving the business till within the last two 
 months, but my brother-in-law himself now acknowledges that 
 it is hopeless. You may make use of this information as you 
 think best.' 
 
 * And may I say that I have received it from you ? ' asked 
 Myra, her voice trembling with agitation. 
 
 ' Certainly : your friends will, I hope, understand that I 
 can have but one object in making such a communication. 
 If they do not, still I must say what I feel to be right, and 
 bear whatever imputation of a double motive may be laid 
 upon me.' 
 
 'They could not distrust you, I would explain, — I would 
 assure them ' began Myra. 
 
 But Mrs. Tracy interrupted her. There was something 
 almost bitter in her tone as she said : ' Dear Miss Cameron, 
 do not trouble yourself with any explanation on my account. 
 When you have had my experience you will learn to accept 
 misconstruction and misrepresentation very quietly. There 
 is a day coming when we shall all know each other truly. 
 I am quite willing to wait for it. Only forgive me for taking 
 up your time, and, I fear, giving you pain.' 
 
 Myra had no wish then to open her heart to Mrs. Tracy, 
 and seek counsel and comfort. The stoicism and apparent 
 indifference of her manner were repelling. She had never 
 before seen the effect of long-continued disappointment and 
 experience of deception. Sorrow would have seemed natural, 
 but calm enduring contempt chilled and perplexed her. Even 
 now she could not realise Mr. Verney's baseness ; she only 
 thought of him as having once been noble.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Brilliant, noisy, and sunshiny were the splendid streets of 
 Paris. Carriages thronged the Champs Elysees and the Bois 
 de Boulogne, groups of idlers crowded the cafes and the restau- 
 rants, men of business rushed along the Boulevards ; fashion 
 able worshippers and curious sightseers ascended the steps. 
 of the Madeleine. There was no place so pleasant to Rosa- 
 mond as Paris; whilst she cow\<$. Jlihier through the streets in 
 the morning, go to the theatre in the evening, eat an unlimited 
 quantity of ices and bonbons, and spend a moderate sum in 
 lace, ribbons, and little jewelleries, she could even be content 
 for a while to exist without flirting. Under present circum- 
 stances Rosamond naturally attributed this possibility to her 
 attachment to Mr. Verney. She was sentimental to herself 
 about it, and found actual pleasure in contrasting her own 
 pretty quiet, modest ways, with the forward independent style 
 of the fast young ladies who presented themselves to the 
 astonished Parisians as the /lite of English society. For this 
 was one great advantage possessed by Rosamond — when sjie 
 found herself so placed that she could not attract admiration 
 from others, she was always able to admire herself. Like the 
 camel in the desert, she kept a supply of civil speeches and 
 pleasant flatteries in her memory wherewith to refresh her 
 thirsty spirit whenever she was inclined to grow weary of a 
 matter-of-fact life. And now she had something still better 
 to fall back upon. She was engaged — and that to a man 
 whom every one allowed to be superior in taste and talent, and 
 whose least words of approbation, therefore, carried weight. 
 For the present, indeed, the engagement was secret, and so 
 there was an absence of outward excitement ; but the conceal- 
 
 S
 
 274 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ment was only temporary, and it certainly heightened the 
 romance. And thus Rosamond was very happy in Paris, and 
 quite contented to walk with her brother Edmund, and drive 
 with her mother ; and when she was not otherwise engaged, 
 to write to Mr. Verney. She knew what no one else did 
 —all his movements ; and it had been one of her little 
 inward triumphs to hear the complaints of his silence and 
 indecision, whilst she knew exactly where he had been and 
 where he meant to be. Rosamond's element was petty 
 mystery, and up to this time she had never found sufficient 
 to satisfy her. 
 
 But the correspondence had not been very frequent, on Mr. 
 Verney's side especially. He had written once to Ischl, and 
 the enclosed letter to Rosamond had been forwarded by Myra. 
 Since then two other letters had been addressed to Myra at Paris. 
 It was evident, therefore, that he did not yet know that she 
 had been left behind at St. Wolfgang. Rosamond concluded 
 that, as it so frequently happens when people are travelling, 
 the particular letter in which she had mentioned this circum- 
 stance had not reached him. The arrangement, however, 
 worked just as well as regarded herself. She opened Myra's 
 letter, took out her own, and forwarded the few lines to St. 
 Wolfgang ; and then, in her kind pleasant way, expressed 
 her satisfaction at Mr. Verney's being so fond of Myra. ' It 
 was such a good tiling for poor little Myra, and had made 
 her quite a different person,' and stately Mr. Cameron 
 eulogised Mr. Verney in a speech so well put together that 
 it would have been quite an event if anything so good had 
 been heard in Parliament, and innocent Mrs. Cameron said 
 to herself, and repeated in a letter to Mrs. Verney, that the 
 friendship of a man of Mr. Verney's age and character was 
 quite a boon to her young people. So safe and so superior 
 he was, she only longed for him to return to them ! 
 
 Only Edmund was silent. He cordially disliked Mr. 
 Verney, and for that reason said little about him. He had 
 no suspicions, however, and nothing in Rosamond's mannet 
 awakened them. It was merely the instinct of a truthful
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 275 
 
 nature, repelled by one that was false. Edmund and Myra 
 were alike in this characteristic ; and Myra would long since 
 have judged Mr. Verney as her brother did, but for the uncon- 
 scious vanity which was flattered by his sympathy, and the 
 womanly reverence and longing for guidance which made 
 her submit to his intellect, whilst wilfully closing her eyes to 
 everything that was deficient in his principles. 
 
 ' He is a very good fellow, I don't doubt/ was Edmund's 
 exclamation at breakfast the fourth morning of their stay in 
 Paris, in reply to one of his mother's now frequent sighing 
 wishes that they could hear something of dear Mr. Verney. 
 ' But I am not bound to like him. I believe I inherit my 
 father's prejudice against all Verneys.' 
 
 ' Except the Colonel,' said Rosamond. ' You and he are 
 immense friends.' 
 
 ' Well, yes. He does give you a blow in your face and 
 not behind your back ; which is more than can be said for 
 his wife.' 
 
 ' Edmund, my dear,' interrupted Mrs. Cameron, ' I must 
 beg of you not to say anything against Mrs. Verney, it may be 
 so awkward, for I have a note here, telling me that they are in 
 Paris.' 
 
 ' In Paris ! ' and Edmund uttered a hasty and not very 
 complimentary ejaculation. 'What do they come here 
 for ? ' 
 
 ' To see the world, I suppose,' observed Rosamond. ' That 
 is what every one comes to Paris for. I think myself that it 
 will be charming having them here. Mrs. Verney is so good- 
 natured, and knows every one.' 
 
 ' I wish you to understand, Rosamond/ said Mr. Cameron, 
 looking up from the ' Galignani,' which, in default of the 
 'Times,' was his morning soporific — ' I wish you to under- 
 stand that I can allow no such constant intercourse with 
 Colonel Verney's family in Paris as went on in London. It 
 was too much. Politically opposed as we are, our social 
 intercourse must necessarily be subject to certain restraints. 
 Mrs. Verney's great good sense is indeed a very redeeming
 
 276 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 item in the aggregate of family qualities, and I do not hesitate 
 to say that I very highly appreciate her ; but, unfortunately, 
 her excellence will not in the eye of the world atone for her 
 husband's violence and party-spirit ; and I heard remarks 
 made before we left England, which proved to me that it 
 would be unwise to allow any further demonstrations of great 
 intimacy. I have thought fit to say this, and I desire you to 
 remember it.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron laid down the paper, and stalked out of 
 the room, Mrs. Cameron looking at him with a strained 
 frightened glance of her weak eyes ; whilst Edmund strolled 
 to the window, and Rosamond, who had not quite finished her 
 breakfast remarked how difficult it was in Paris to get an ess 
 properly boiled. 
 
 ' Your father places me in a very awkward position,' mur- 
 mured Mrs. Cameron, after carefully glancing round the room, 
 to be certaia that the door was closed ; ' he shows such atten- 
 tions to the Verneys whenever we are near each other ; indeed 
 I often say he listens to Mrs. Verney much more than he does 
 to me ; and it was entirely his doing having Mr. Verney with 
 us at Munich and Ischl. I should never have thought of 
 asking him to stay ; I should not have considered it proper 
 —indeed, it was not ; but I could not help it, nnd he made 
 /limself so helpful and agreeable, and is really so very 
 charming.' 
 
 ' I don't see the impropriety,' exclaimed Edmund, laughing. 
 * Rosamond and Myra are not likely to fall in love with him, 
 considering his age. It would be of no use, indeed, if they 
 did, for he is engaged.' 
 
 ' Engaged ! Mr. Verney engaged ! ' Mrs. Cameron almost 
 screamed her surprise. Rosamond turned pale, spread some 
 butter on a roll, and said, ' Engaged, is he ? To whom ? ' 
 'Some Indian girl ; so I hear.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' And Rosamond cut her roll into small pieces, but 
 did not manage to eat it. 
 
 * But not to tell us ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Cameron in a solilo- 
 quising tone. < I don't believe it ; I can't think — Rosamond,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 277 
 
 my dear, he certainly did pay you great attentions ; and he 
 is fond of Myra, very fond of her — he told me so.' 
 
 ' Platonic affection for young ladies in general,' said Ed- 
 mund. 'Just like Verney's humbug.' 
 
 ' But an Indian girl ! Not a native, of course ? that would 
 be too shocking ! ' 
 
 'A Parsee !' exclaimed Edmund banteringly ; 'a regit U»r 
 fire-worshipper ; a Miss Something-jee — Something-hoy. A 
 capital hit it will be for Verney. He will get up the Parsee 
 philosophy, and talk down all the learned men at all the 
 learned dinner-parties in London.' 
 
 ' But may we know the lady's real name ? ' asked Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 ' Certainly, when I know it myself. As it happens, I only 
 heard it in an accidental way, and have quite forgotten it. 
 Are you coming to the Louvre this morning, Rosamond ? ' 
 
 ' I think so. What time are we likely to get our letters 
 to-day ? ' 
 
 ' I will go and inquire for them, and you can be ready by 
 the time I return. I suppose you will call on Mrs. Verney 
 to-day, in spite of my father's warnings ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, Rosamond ! don't go, my love,' exclaimed Mrs. 
 Cameron. ' Let Mrs. Verney call upon us ; she says, indeed, 
 that she will. I do hope your father will be out.' 
 
 ' Nay,' said Edmund, ' you had better hope that he may be 
 at home, for he will be certain to ask her to dinner. What 
 will you bet me, Rosamond, that we don't find Colonel and 
 Mrs. Verney established here, in the same hotel, by the time 
 we come home ? ' 
 
 ' I never bet,' was Rosamond's reply. ' Will you go for the 
 letters ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, at once ; only I shall be back again before you 
 have settled which bonnet to put on.' 
 
 Rosamond smiled her reply and walked out of the room 
 not in the least hurried or excited, leaving Edmund to place 
 Mrs. Cameron's work by her side, and arrange her sofa 
 cushions.
 
 278 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 No letters ! — a circumstance which Edmund considered 
 worthy of congratulation, as they were able to go off to 
 the Louvre without delay. He was enthusiastic about pic- 
 tures in his own way, which was not in the least that of a 
 connoisseur. Rosamond, on the contrary, always knew be- 
 forehand what she ought to admire, and stood before Murillo's 
 ' Assumption of the Virgin,' murmuring, just loud enough to 
 be heard, ' Exquisite — quite exquisite ! ' and then professing 
 to be unable to leave it, begged Edmund to walk through the 
 gallery and return to her, and stationed herself in a graceful 
 attitude of admiration with her head turned from the door. 
 A gentleman placed himself near to her, but rather behind 
 her. Rosamond would on no account have turned her head 
 directly to look at him, but she moved her position a little, and 
 as she did so Mr. Verney's voice said, ' Rosamond, are you 
 alone ? ' 
 
 Rosamond did not start, though her face flushed. She 
 merely put her glass to her eye, to be quite sure that her brother 
 was not near, and then turning to him, answered, ' I am alone 
 just for these few moments. If you have anything to say pri- 
 vately, say it quickly. When did you come ? ' 
 
 ' Late last night, or early this morning rather. I told you 
 you might expect me in Paris this week, unless you heard to 
 the contrary. Where is Myra ? ' 
 
 ' At St. Wolfgang ; or, at least, she was when she last 
 wrote.' 
 
 Rosamond was not looking at Mr. Verney, or she might 
 have been startled at the change in his countenance. When 
 he paused to reply, she added, ' I mentioned that Mrs. Hens- 
 man took her back with her after you were gone. What 
 is the matter? ' She noticed his expression now. 
 
 ' Nothing, nothing ! She is at St. Wolfgang, you say ? 
 Alone, I suppose, with the Hensmans ! ' 
 
 ' No ; that Mrs. Tracy and Miss Stuart whom she so raved 
 about are there, with several other people j but indeed, I told 
 you of it all in my letter.' 
 
 ' Foreign posts ! ' he said carelessly ; ' but she will be here 
 soon, no doubt.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 1 I can't tell anything about her precise movements, only 
 the Hensmans are most likely going to bring her here before 
 ■we leave Paris. You look so distressed I protest I shall 
 begin to be jealous.' 
 
 ' Poor little Myra ! ' he exclaimed ; ' yes, I am very fond 
 of her. She is such a good little thing — only too good.' 
 
 ' Just what she is — -too good. Her conscience-crotchets 
 are always coming in her way. But I won't find fault with 
 her ; I know you are devoted to her. By the by, a most 
 absurd thing happened this morning ; Edmund propounded 
 at breakfast the fact of your engagement.' 
 
 ' Mine ! Ours ? ' 
 
 Yours — not necessarily mine. I hope the Indian young 
 lady is quite well ? ' and Rosamond looked at him archly, 
 but trustingly. 
 
 His sallow cheek was quite livid as he said, ' I don't like 
 jokes upon such subjects.' 
 
 ' You like them better than earnestness, I suppose/ replied 
 Rosamond gaily. ' If I had believed it, what would you 
 have said ? ' 
 
 ' That you were not what I imagined you to be. Who 
 has sent such a report abroad ? ' 
 
 ' I never inquired ; I did not dare, or I might have be- 
 trayed myself. It only shows how much we are to believe 
 of the world's gossip.' 
 
 ' It must be put a stop to soon.' He hesitated. ' Rosa- 
 mond ! in six weeks' time I must be on my way to India. 
 Are you prepared to go with me ? ' 
 
 It was Rosamond's turn to look grave then. She repeated, 
 ' Only six weeks ? ' 
 
 ' Only six weeks ; it may be even less. What will your 
 father say ? ' 
 
 'Ask him.' 
 
 ' And if he should refuse ? ' 
 
 ' Ask him again.' 
 
 Mr. Verney was silent, and Rosamond continued : ' I don't 
 foresee the objection ; I don't see what there is to object to. 
 My father knows I must marry.'
 
 2 3o A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' It might be better to have an advocate,' said Mr. Verney ; 
 'my aunt would take our part.' 
 
 ' But you have insisted upon secrecy • you have urged it.' 
 
 ' Up to this time ; but things are changed. Rosamond, I 
 must be married immediately, or not at all.' 
 
 ' Immediately meaning in six weeks' time?' said Rosa- 
 mond. 
 
 ' Yes. The world is so absurd about these matters, other- 
 wise one might just manage the matter one's own way, and 
 ask permission when the deed was done.' 
 
 His tone was light, and Rosamond answered in the same 
 style : ' Thank you. To be married privately, as if I was 
 ashamed of what I was doing! No congratulations, no pre- 
 sents — only grave looks and reproaches. Where is the love 
 that would be worth such a sacrifice ? ' 
 
 ' Where, indeed ? ' he replied bitterly. ' But, Rosamond, if 
 your father should refuse his consent?' 
 
 'A very large "if," and a very unlikely one, as I have 
 always told you. I would have asked him long ago but 
 for your mysterious reasons for delay, which I never could 
 understand.' 
 
 'Still, if he should refuse, what would you do?' 
 
 ' I will answer the question when he has refused ; all I say 
 now is, try him.' 
 
 ' When ? ' 
 
 'To-day.' 
 
 Mr. Verney shook his head. 
 
 ' Are you a coward ? ' exclaimed Rosamond rather indig- 
 nantly. 'Then let me try him.' 
 
 'My poor darling! so ignorant, so imprudent!' Mr. Ver- 
 ney's caressing, patronising manner for the moment awed 
 Rosamond with an idea of some unknown danger. He con- 
 tinued in the same tone : ' But leave it to me, Rosamond ; 
 leave it to me, trust me. And you may trust my aunt ; that 
 at least will be a comfort to you.' 
 
 ' If I want comfort,' said Rosamond petulantly. ' But I see 
 no occasion to trust any one except ourselves.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 2S1 
 
 'I do; and I must be the judge.' 
 
 'As you will,' was the light reply. 'If the end can be 
 gained, I give up the question of means — here is Edmund.' 
 And moving away with her quiet graceful step, Rosamond 
 went up to her brother to express her surprise that Mr. Vcrncy 
 should so unexpectedly have returned to Paris. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 * My dear Charles, and you are really engaged to that sweet 
 girl ! Indeed I congratulate you.' Mrs. Vcrncy took her 
 nephew's hand in both hers, and looked inexpressible satis- 
 faction. 
 
 ' I did as you bade me,' was the slightly sarcastic reply, and 
 Mr. Verney withdrew his hands, and took care to place them 
 so that they could not again be seized. 
 
 'She is indeed a charming creature, full of grace and ani- 
 mation ; and such a temper ! absolutely unruffled. The world 
 will only go too smoothly with you both. My theory, I confess, 
 is that the union of two dispositions, equally disposed to glide 
 down the current of life rather than to battle with it, is not 
 desirable for the wellbeing of either ; but in this instance I 
 own I am in fault. Your noble manliness, my dear Charles, 
 will be a support to her feminine weakness ; and when storms 
 come, and of course they will come, you will naturally confide in 
 and understand each other. It is indeed a refreshing prospect.' 
 
 ' I wish I could think it so,' was the answer. 
 
 'Ah ! you are morbid. But that has to do with health. I 
 know you always foresee difficulties.' 
 
 ' I do not merely foresee them ; they are present,' he replied ; 
 ' I must leave England in six weeks' time, and I must be 
 married, if I am married at all, in a month. Mr. Cameron will 
 never consent, and I believe I was a fool not to think twice 
 before I com milted myself.'
 
 282 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 1 Oh ! fie, fie ! A man in love to talk so ! Faint heart never 
 won fair lady. I am ashamed of you.' 
 
 ' If Rosamond had the courage, or the love which she pro- 
 fesses to have,' observed Mr. Verney, sinking languidly into a 
 chair, ' we should avoid all scenes and all difficulties, by not 
 troubling ourselves about consent. When the deed is done, 
 consent is always ready. But she likes the fuss of a public 
 wedding, which I detest.' 
 
 Mrs. Verney laughed. ' What a naughty man you are ! The 
 idea of suggesting a private wedding because you hate a 
 public one. No wonder Rosamond is frightened at you. But 
 what is all this terrible difficulty?' 
 
 'Merely that Mr. Cameron is a strait-laced prig,' said Mr. 
 Verney; 'and will have his daughter wooed and won in regular 
 order, for which I have neither time nor patience.' 
 
 'Very right in Mr. Cameron. Quite consistent with his sense 
 of propriety and decorum ; but I suppose you foresee no real 
 objection ? ' 
 
 Do you?' Mr. Verney raised him«elf a little, and listened 
 somewhat eagerly for the answer. 
 
 'Well ! I will not absolutely undertake to say there will 
 be none. Objections are fashionable. A marriage without 
 them would be /tors de rdgle. As Shakespeare says, " The 
 course of true love never did run smooth," and the world 
 is determined it never shall. But I see none which would be 
 insuperable.' 
 
 'And those which are not insuperable, will be what?' 
 
 'My dear Chnrles, what a singular question! You can 
 answer yourself much better than I can.' 
 
 ' Money,' said Mr. Verney. 
 
 ' Money, alas ! the root of all evil.' 
 
 'And settlements.' 
 
 'And settlements, as you say. But with Rosamond's pro- 
 spects, and your Indian income, there can be no ultimate diffi- 
 culty on that score, though there may be a certain amount of 
 hesitation. I should suppose that your health might be a 
 matter of uneasiness. It might compel you again to leave 
 India.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 283 
 
 'And ia the meantime Mrs. Fitzgerald will die,' said Mr. 
 Verney, 'and we shall be aide to live comfortably in England.' 
 
 ' Very true ! quite unanswerable indeed ; except that lawyers 
 are not fond of contingencies. But you would be able to come 
 forward with a settlement of your own, independent of your 
 professional income.' 
 
 Mr. Verney was silent. 
 
 ' I understand,' continued Mrs. Verney, with a meaning 
 smile; 'slightly encumbered! most single men are. They 
 want wives to teach them economy. But Mr. Cameron is not 
 a grasping man. When he sees it is a case of real affection, a 
 real union of hearts, he will not stand out upon the question of 
 a few thousands, knowing, as he must know, what Rosamond 
 has in store.' 
 
 ' I should like to be certain of it,' said Mr. Verney. 
 
 'Then, my dear Charles, make up your mind to take the only 
 step by which to obtain certainty. Communicate upon the 
 subject at once with Mr. Cameron.' 
 
 ' It will not be possible at once. He is so steeped in pre- 
 judice, so anti- Verney politically, that I shall have to fight a 
 pitched battle upon the question of marriage at all, before we 
 even approach the matter of settlements. And it might all be 
 avoided,' he added in a lower tone. ' It is nothing but a 
 woman's delight in the frippery of a public wedding.' 
 
 ' Hush ! hush ! I can't have you talk so : you forget what the 
 world would say.' 
 
 'The world would talk for a day, and then it would forget,' 
 was his reply. 
 
 'But, my dear Charles, you arc merely joking, and the thing 
 is an absurdity, an impossibility. It would be out of the ques- 
 tion for me to help you, if you had any idea of the kind. You 
 must see at once I should be compelled to ignore the whole 
 proceeding. So improper, so highly improper it would be ! ' 
 
 ' Highly improper, but particularly satisfactory,' observed Mr. 
 Verney, in a tone which left it uncertain whether he was in jest 
 cr earnest. 
 
 'You really alarm me, Charles. I feel quite afraid of mixing 
 myself up with an affair which may have such a doubtful char-
 
 284 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 acter,' exclaimed Mrs. Verney. ' I never knew you so disposed 
 to set the world at defiance before. But if you are in such 
 terror of Mr. Cameron's frown, why not leave the matter to 
 me? or at least let me sound him ? I am not afraid.' 
 
 'You are not going to ask to marry his daughter,' said Mr. 
 Verney, throwing himself back in his chair, with the comfortable 
 sigh of a tired man, who has suddenly found out a position of 
 rest. ' I am not at all sure that you would not state the matter 
 much better than I should myself. You have but to convince 
 him that he need not turn liberal because his daughter marries 
 a Verney ; and as to settlements' he paused. 
 
 ' Ten thousand he will think very little,' said Mrs. Verney, 
 'but that, if I remember rightly, was all you originally had.' 
 
 'You must make him contented with less,' was the reply. 
 
 Mrs. Verney shook her head, and then murmured to herself, 
 1 Certainly, there is the professional income, and a retiring pen- 
 sion after due service. He ought to be satisfied.' 
 
 'Afraid, like myself, I perceive,' said Mr. Verney, with a 
 languid and rather amused smile. 
 
 The suggestion touched Mrs. Verney's pride in her manoeuvr- 
 ing powers. 'It would be for the first time in my life then,' 
 she exclaimed. ' If I might be permitted to give my experience, 
 I should say that what is commonly termed moral cowardice 
 is more frequently found in your sex than in mine.' 
 
 'And women rush in where angels fear to tread,' he replied. 
 ' Forgive the false metre. But I grant you have the courage of 
 ignorance.' 
 
 'Ignorance or knowledge, it stands us in good stead; and I 
 find as a rule that you gentlemen are extremely glad to avail 
 yourselves of it. But, my dear Charles, in the present instance 
 you do not need to be assured that my best efforts will be 
 exerted in your behalf. To see you and that sweet girl united, 
 would be a repayment for any anxiety. You believe me?' and 
 again Mr. Verney's hand, which had been incautiously placed 
 in a position of danger, was seized, and a murmured 'God bless 
 you!' completed the interview.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 23; 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 SADLY and monotonously day after day wore away in the 
 sick-room of the good old rector of Yare. Sadly, at least, to 
 all but to him, who was the one object of sorrow. It was such 
 a quiet, painless sinking to rest after the work of life was done, 
 that no one could with reason wish that circumstances should 
 be altered. Dr. Kingsbury had outlived his generation : there 
 were others more active and original, with feelings more in 
 accordance with the spirit of the age, waiting to take his place ; 
 and none could venture to say that a change might not be 
 beneficial to the parish. The old Doctor himself felt it, and 
 said it. In moments when he could be roused to conversation, 
 he pointed out his own deficiencies with a clearness which was 
 a new revelation to the single-hearted Mr. Baines, accustomed 
 to regard his rector with a reverence that had scarcely allowed 
 him to face the possibility even of a mistake in his judgment. 
 But there was something about to be taken away which no 
 talent, or zeal, or originality could supply ; something which 
 was embodied not in the quaintness of the old rector's dress, 
 or the abstruseness of his sermons, but in the firmly-grounded 
 quiet consistency of life and teaching, with which no peculiar 
 opinions of his own had ever been permitted to interfere. 
 
 Whether our principles of action are to be governed by ' we,' 
 or by 'I,' — by collective and traditional, or by individual 
 judgment— is in fact a question which we must all, in one 
 form or another, be called upon to debate at every step in life. 
 At Yare, the ' we' was passing away with Dr. Kingsbury, and 
 there were those who, although unconscious of the cause, 
 grieved over the loss with a yearning regret, which seemed 
 almost disproportioned to the termination of an earthly existence 
 already unusually prolonged. 
 
 And there was one to whom the old man's death would prove 
 not only the breaking up of hallowed ties, but, so far as human
 
 2 S6 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 eyes could judge, the entire wreck of happiness. Every one 
 spoke of, pitied, and felt for Mrs. Patty ; yet Mrs. Patty was 
 perhaps the only person, except the Doctor himself, who could 
 allude to the approaching parting with perfect calmness. 
 
 After that first pang, kept to herself, or acknowledged only 
 to God, Mrs. Patty never once shrank from the sorrow that lay 
 in her path, never once tried to deceive either herself or others 
 respecting it. It was strange to hear her mention it, strange, 
 at least, to those who had been accustomed to put aside the 
 thought of death — to look upon it as a fearful mystery, only to 
 be hinted at. 
 
 'When you are gone, Doctor, dear,' she would say to her 
 brother, 'so and so must be done;' and then the old man 
 would smile, and answer ; ' Yes, Patty, quite true,' and proceed 
 to give his advice as calmly as though he had been speaking of 
 things dependent upon a common journey. It was a great 
 comfort to them both to be able to do so. They had been so 
 dependent upon each other for happiness, that the idea of any 
 separation of interests, even for a time, would have been more 
 bitter far than the bodily parting. They had talked of where 
 Mrs. Patty should live, and fixed upon a cottage in Yare, and 
 calculated the expense, and even gone into details of arrange- 
 ment, not at all with the idea of taking thought anxiously for 
 the morrow, but merely from the habitual necessity of consulting 
 and knowing each other's plans. And what would have been 
 agony to many was soothing to the simple mind of Mrs. Patty. 
 For, as she said, ' I shall feel I am doing right, Doctor, dear, 
 if I have your sanction ; and if it should please God to interfere 
 and prevent it, why then I shall feel right in giving it all up. 
 And anyhow, doing right is all I shall have to think about for 
 the few years, or maybe months, till we meet again.' 
 
 It seemed to those who looked on, more likely to be the latter 
 than the former, for Mrs. Patty was much worn by her constant 
 watching and nursing, and Faith and Betsey complained 
 bitterly that she would fidget herself about the Doctor's dinner, 
 and not take a mouthful herself. She was very energetic 
 though, and kept her eye upon the parish, and knew perfectly 
 well what was going on at the schools, and by no means lost
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 287 
 
 her interest in her neighbours ; for all these things, besides 
 being more or less duties, were interests to the rector, who 
 listened to her report of them with a pleased smile, even when 
 he could scarcely rouse himself to answer. 
 
 ' Doctor, dear, the Camerons are coming home, you will be 
 glad to hear,' was the information given him one morning, as 
 Mrs. Patty, rather breathless, took possession of the arm-chair 
 opposite to that in which he was sitting propped up by pillows. 
 
 Only a smile in reply, and she went on : ' Mr. and Mrs. 
 Cameron, and Edmund and Rosamond, are to come first, so our 
 servants say ; but little Myra is left behind with some friends.' 
 
 ' Then I shall not see her,' murmured the old man. 
 
 ' Please God you will, Doctor, dear ; for Mr. Harrison says 
 you have a good deal of strength yet. The thing which 
 troubles me, though, is that it has got about, I can't make 
 out how, that Myra has been ill." 
 
 ' Poor little girl ! that must be sad in a foreign land. She 
 has not my comforts, Patty.' 
 
 ' She won't want them so much, I hope,' replied Mrs. Patty, 
 'for young things have a wonderful way of learning to do with- 
 out what they can't have. But I should like to hear more. 
 The news came through Miss Greaves, and she heard it from 
 Mrs. De Lancey, but — isn't it time, Doctor, for you to take 
 your medicine ? ' 
 
 ' The globules will be best, Patty,' said the Doctor, and a 
 smile which had something almost arch in it lit up his face. 
 
 Tears started to Mrs. Patty's eye*. 
 
 ' O Doctor ! and you a sane man and a good ! ' 
 
 ' They are least trouble, Patty.' 
 
 ' And they are poison ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' It is all a question of proportion, Patty. But I will not vex 
 you.' 
 
 ' It is Mr. Harrison whom you will vex,' replied Mrs. Patty ; 
 'and I thought, Doctor, you had given up the globules since 
 poor Miss Medley lost her senses by them, and is never likely 
 to recover them.' 
 
 'So I had, Patty; so I had. But I talked to Mr. Harrison 
 yesterday, and he quite agreed that his medicine did me no
 
 288 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 good; and it has a very nauseous flavour. But I will take 
 what you pour out. Did you say Mrs. De Lancey knew about 
 little Myra ? I have forgotten who Mrs. De Lancey is.' 
 
 'The lady who has the school in St. John's Wood, where 
 Juliet and Annette have been sent,' replied Mrs. Patty. ' Now' 
 — and she handed him the medicine — 'just take this. Mrs. 
 De Lancey knows that Miss Stuart whom Myra wrote about ; 
 but you don't recollect. Ah me ! ' 
 
 Dr. Kingsbury leaned his head back in his chair, and his 
 countenance showed that even this short conversation had 
 been trying to him. Mrs. Patty took up her knitting, and they 
 both sat silent for some time, till the Doctor looked up and 
 said : 'Mr. Baines will be here presently for prayers.' 
 
 'At three o'clock,' replied Mrs. Patty, 'and it wants a 
 quarter to three." 
 
 ' I pray God to help little Myra, and to comfort her friends 
 if she should be taken from them,' continued the Doctor. 
 
 ' Surely we must all do that,' said Mrs. Patty ; ' and it cheers 
 me to think that little Myra loves her Saviour, and trusts 
 Him, and so it must always be well with her, but I don't 
 imagine though, from what I heard, that she. is so very ill. 
 Mrs. De Lancey must have heard the news from Miss Stuart, 
 because she is staying with Mrs. Hensman, at that odd place 
 where Myra has been. You remember now, don't you ?' 
 
 ' My memory grows confused, Patty, but I think I recollect 
 something. Was Miss Stuart a very pretty young lady ? ' 
 
 'Very pretty and very unhappy, from all I can hear; and 
 what is more to me, and to you too, Doctor, they declare she 
 is engnged to Mr. Verney. Now, what do you say to that ?' 
 
 Mrs. Patty gave a triumphant glance at the rector, evidently 
 hoping that she should excite and rouse him by the intelligence 
 which she had with most resolute self-denial kept as a bonne- 
 bouche for the last. 
 
 But the old man was too tired to be excited, and he merely 
 answered quietly, ' Then you need not fear any more for 
 Rosamond Cameron, Patty.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty's eyes twinkled a little impatiently. ' I should 
 fear for her more than ever if I were her mother, for I should
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. iSg 
 
 expect her to die of a broken heart. I never in my life heard 
 of anything so double as Mr. Verney. Miss Greaves says that 
 from her experience she has no faith in Indians, but I tell her 
 that is uncharitable ; and I know, Doctor, you wouldn't like 
 me to say so.' 
 
 ' Indeed not, Patty, and I am sorry that Miss Greaves should 
 indulge so harsh a judgment. The foundation of prejudice 
 against individuals is constantly to be found in prejudice 
 against classes, and I beg you to tell her so from me. I wish 
 Mr. Verney well, whomsoever he may think fit to marry.' 
 
 'Ah ! Doctor, but in these days engagements don't seem to 
 lead to marriage, and there is the difficulty of being charitable. 
 Miss Greaves declares, and I can't help fearing she may be 
 right, that Mr. Verney is playing false with them both ; and I 
 had it in my mind this morning to write to Mrs. Cameron and 
 tell her what I had heard, only I did not quite know how to 
 begin.' 
 
 'Perhaps,' said the Doctor drily, 'the young ladies may 
 have been a little in fault, Patty. Young ladies are sometimes 
 wrong, and as we are quite ignorant, it may be as well to divide 
 the blame.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty shook her head, but she would not contest the 
 point with one who, as a matter of course, always took up 
 the side of the accused ; and she merely said : ' I wish, at all 
 events, Mr. Verney would make haste and marry some one, 
 and then our minds might be at rest.' A remark to which the 
 Doctor roused himself enough to answer, ' Which is more per- 
 haps than his would be, Patty. I don't think, from what I have 
 seen in life, that marriage is a very resting process.' 
 
 That was the conclusion of the conversation for the time, 
 and it soon passed from Dr. Kingsbury's thoughts, but not so 
 from Mrs. Patty's. She had so accustomed herself for years to 
 look upon the affairs of the Cameron household as her own, 
 that anything which affected, or was likely to affect them, was 
 recognised at once as a personal interest, and again she pon- 
 dered ^the possibility of addressing a warning letter to Mrs. 
 Cameron ; and being stopped as before by the insurmountable 
 difficulty of the first sentence, satisfied herself at last by 
 
 T
 
 290 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 anticipating a long conversation the very first day of their 
 
 meeting. 
 
 ' I must be patient with the poor thing, though,' said Mrs. 
 Patty, uttering her self-admonitory thoughts aloud; 'she is 
 quite ill, and nearly blind, and, 1 daresay, does not see half 
 that goes on. Well, as poor Miss Medley used to say, men 
 are strange — some men at least.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty's determination to postpone her letter did not 
 interfere with the indulgence of a little natural curiosity ; and 
 at the end of her morning's walk of inspection through the 
 village, she turned up the road to the Hall, in order to make 
 assurance doubly sure by inquiring the exact day when the 
 family were expected, and whether any further tidings had 
 been received of Myra. 
 
 The house looked — as most houses cursed even temporarily 
 with absenteeism do look — the picture of desolation. Carpets 
 had been taken up, curtains taken down ; whitewashes were 
 in the kitchen, a charwoman in the scullery. Mrs. Patty 
 nearly fell over a dust-pan in the hall, and upset a bucket on 
 her way to the drawing-room ; and then, finding no one to give 
 her information, made her way through a freshly-scoured pas- 
 sage to the housekeeper's room. But the only person to be 
 found there was a little kitchen-maid, once a school-girl, busied 
 in laying the cloth for Mrs. Pearson, the housekeeper's, dinner, 
 the said Mrs. Pearson having gone out, and not being expected 
 to return for half an hour. 
 
 'And are you left alone in the house, Fanny?" said Mrs. 
 Patty kindly ; ' you must have enough to do.' 
 
 ' Please, ma'am, the others are gone away for a holiday, but 
 they are all coming back to-morrow.' 
 
 ' So soon ! I suppose, though, you expect your master and 
 mistress back.' 
 
 ' Please, ma'am, they are to be here by the end of the week, 
 Mrs. Pearson had a letter to-day ; ' and Fanny looked up, proud 
 of the extent of her information. 
 
 'And Miss Myra is not coming, I believe,' said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' Mrs. Pearson did not tell me, ma'am ; she only said things 
 were to be put right in a hurry, which is why we are so busy.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 291 
 
 Conyers wrote to Mrs. Pearson too.' Fanny paused — it was 
 evident she wished to be asked what Conyers had said ; and 
 Mrs. Patty very innocently fell into the snare, and inquired if 
 Conyers had mentioned anything more. 
 
 ' Only about the wedding, please, ma'am.' Fanny simpered, 
 and looked at Mrs. Patty's astonished face, and simpered 
 again ; and unable to resist telling what she knew, added, 
 'Miss Cameron and Mr. Verney, ma'am.' 
 
 Not one word was obtained in answer from Mrs. Patty. 
 She stood as if turned into stone, her eyes fixed upon the sur- 
 prised and rather frightened girl — who, instantly conscious that 
 she had betrayed what had been confided to her in secrecy, 
 added, ' If you please, ma'am, I was not to say it to any one ; 
 but Mrs. Pearson could not be angry about you. Only, if you 
 please not to say I told it ; ' and then, taking up some plates 
 which she had just laid on the table, she hurried out of the 
 room, not daring to trust any longer to her own prudence. 
 
 Bewilderment had been Mrs. Patty's first sensation, utter 
 incredulity was the second. The very fact of the intelligence 
 reaching her in such a form was conclusive against it. It was 
 but the revival of the old report, and her own private informa- 
 tion from Miss Greaves must be more trustworthy. But Mrs. 
 Patty could not be satisfied with these convictions. She sat 
 down to await the return of Mrs. Pearson, not intending to ask 
 any questions which might betray her authority, and so cause 
 mischief, but feeling quite sure that it would not be in the 
 housekeeper's power to conceal the news if it really had been 
 given her as anything more than rumour. 
 
 And so, to Mrs. Patty's dire amazement, almost the first 
 words which were spoken by the portly Mrs. Pearson, as she 
 came in tired from her walk and apologised for sitting down in 
 her arm-chair, were, ' Of course, Mrs. Patty, you have heard, 
 and I need make no secret — it has not, indeed, been told me 
 officially, but I shall doubtless receive instructions by to-mor- 
 row's post — the wedding, Conyers assures me, must come off 
 very soon, for Mr. Verney goes to India immediately. Poor 
 Miss Cameron ! what a change for her, but there is no doubt 
 she will be happy, and young ladies like to see the world ; only
 
 292 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 be does seem rather old, Mrs. Patty, doesn't he? And then his 
 health ; I can't say I should have thought Mr. Cameron would 
 have approved ; but one never can say. We shall be so busy 
 now. I have been down in the village trying to get help, and 
 I can't say I have succeeded yet as I wish. The house is in 
 terrible confusion, Mrs. Patty, as you see, and all to be ready 
 by Friday ; and the wedding to come off no one knows how 
 soon ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Pearson giving an opening for an observation by a 
 pause, Mrs. Patty asked : ' Has Mrs. Cameron written to you 
 herself, Pearson ? ' 
 
 ' No, ma'am, not exactly. That is to say, she sends a few 
 lines, just to tell me what changes she wishes to have made in 
 the boudoir ; and to beg that the work-people may be hurried ; 
 for, indeed, they are terribly dilatory ; but it is Conyers who 
 gives most of the news, as might have been expected. I have 
 no doubt, Mrs. Patty, that my mistress would have written to 
 me herself, if she had not been coming so soon ; but as they 
 are to be here on Friday, it was to be expected that she would 
 keep the news till then. There can be no doubt, however, of 
 the fact — no doubt at all,' repeated Mrs. Pearson, perceiving 
 Mrs. Patty's look of incredulity. 'I will just tell you what 
 Conyers says, if you like to hear.' Without waiting for an 
 answer, Mrs. Pearson dived into the depths of her pocket, and 
 brought out the important document. ' Let me see ; it is just 
 at the beginning. " I told you in my last that I should have 
 news for you before long. Mr. Verney and Miss Cameron have 
 made up together at last ; and we shall have a gay wedding at 
 the Hall before many weeks are over. It is not yet publicly 
 given out ; but I don't doubt that it will be almost directly. 
 The Colonel and Mrs. Verney are here, in the same hotel ; and 
 Mrs. Verney has had talks with my master by the hour ; so I 
 suppose there have been some difficulties. It is sad to think 
 of poor Miss Myra being ill and away, when such things are 
 going on ; but they say she will do very well, if she is kept 
 quite quiet ; and, of course, she will be home before the wedding 
 comes off." Then, at the postscript, there is something still 
 more decided : " Miss Cameron has begun to talk of buying
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 293 
 
 her things ; for it seems that they must sail for India next 
 month." Was there ever anything so quick ? There can be 
 no doubt after that, you see, ma'am,' observed Mrs. Pearson, 
 as she folded up the letter triumphantly. 
 
 Still Mrs. Patty made no reply, except to inquire if Conyers 
 said anything more about Miss Myra? 
 
 'Only just a few words, ma'am. In the first page, I think it 
 is. "Miss Myra was to have been here to-day; but Mrs. 
 Hensman has written to say that she has a kind of bilious 
 attack, which will prevent her coming ; so she is to travel home 
 with them all the way." ' 
 
 'Thank you, Pearson,' said Mrs. Patty. ' We must hope all 
 things will go well, both with Miss Cameron and Miss Myra.' 
 And very greatly to the housekeeper's wonder and disappoint- 
 ment, Mrs. Patty wished her good morning, and left her.
 
 294 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Alone, ill, weary at heart, troubled in conscience, Myra lay, 
 tossing on her bed, in the least noisy room of the Baierischer 
 Hof at Munich. One form was ever flitting before her nervous, 
 tremulous vision — that of the wan girl who had bent over her 
 at St. Wolfgang, and murmured : ' He is my all !' And now 
 Myra kept close to her pillow a little box, which held a lock of 
 dark hair and an enamelled ring ; and as she clasped it from 
 time to time, to be certain that it was safe, the same sad voice 
 sounded in her ears the farewell with which Charlotte Stuart 
 had parted from her, when, in the midst of the confusion of a 
 general departure, she had sought for one moment of privacy 
 and confided the treasure to her care. ' Give it to him, Miss 
 Cameron, alone. Tell him it contains his choice. He asked 
 me for the hair ; if he should keep it, he will return to me. 
 He gave me the ring ; if he should accept it again, he is gone 
 for ever.' Hours had seemed days since Myra received that 
 charge. It was in vain that Mrs. Tracy had equally urged her, 
 in a last interview, to do and say nothing which should in the 
 slightest degree influence Mr. Verney ; in vain she assured 
 Myra, that for her niece's sake everything would be far better 
 left as it was ; that a meeting would but bring pain ; that under 
 present circumstances, a renewal of the engagement would be 
 most unwise, if not actually wrong. The one idea pressing 
 upon Myra's conscience was the duty of perfect openness upon 
 all points. With her father, with Rosamond — above all, with 
 Mr. Verney — to have no concealment or reservation. Rosa- 
 mond's happiness, Mr. Verney's most dreaded anger, and the 
 confession which she must herself make of having been in a 
 degree party to the secret, were all put aside. She was, as it 
 were, goaded forward by the bitterness of her disappointment in 
 Mr. Verney, and the sting of her own self-reproach ; whilst the
 
 A GLIMPSE OP THE WORLD. 295 
 
 tenderness and sympathy of her young heart made her feel 
 intuitively the mockery of her sister's professed affection com- 
 pared with the passionate love of the unhappy girl, whose 
 misery was leading her to the verge of the grave. 
 
 Myra looked her last at St. Wolfgang— the grey mountains 
 and spreading forests, the white walls of the conventual house, 
 and the steep banks of the garden washed by the waters of the 
 silvery lake ; the old church, with its picturesque arcade and 
 tall bell-tower ; the cottages bordering the shore, and the boats 
 drawn up in front of them, under dark wooden sheds, — all 
 which she had first gazed upon as forming a scene so grand, 
 yet home-like, that it might make life on earth a paradise — and 
 felt but one wish — to be away from it, and, if possible, forget it. 
 But it was not to be forgotten. Myra was very young, very 
 inexperienced, and most lonely, and the thought now connected 
 with St. Wolfgang haunted her. It followed her in the long 
 weary journey to Salzburg ; it pressed upon her still more when 
 she found herself in the same hotel at which she had rested on 
 her journey to Ischl ; it urged her to an almost unendurable 
 eagerness and impatience when Mrs. Hensman proposed the 
 delay of two or three days, in order that they might see the 
 things most worthy of note in the neighbourhood ; and by the 
 time they had completed the railway journey to Munich, Myra 
 was suffering from something very like a nervous fever. Mrs. 
 Hensman was frightened ; the English physician perplexed. 
 It was said to be a bilious attack, because no one knew what 
 other name to give it. But one thing was clear, that excite- 
 ment and fatigue were equally to be avoided ; and Mrs. Hens- 
 man, in her almost daily bulletins to Paris, entreated that the 
 letters in answer might contain nothing which should in the 
 least disturb Myra, or aggravate the feverish desire to be at 
 home, which it was so impossible to satisfy. Not that there 
 was any danger— the doctor assured them again and again that 
 there was not the slightest cause for alarm. Rest and quiet 
 were all that would be needed, and in a few days — a week, 
 probably, at the utmost — they might hope to move again. 
 
 Rest and quiet ! What prescription is more frequently given, 
 or more easily acquiesced in ? Mrs. Hensman, indeed, was
 
 296 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 quite relieved to think that things were no worse ; but Myra 
 turned her head aside, and felt too stony-hearted for tears, and 
 too irritable and wretched for speech. 
 
 Griefs and trials are all matters of comparison ; we are apt 
 to overlook this as we grow old. When we have faced the 
 great battle of life, and learnt to stand alone in the conflict, 
 looking but to Heaven for aid, we can scarcely recall the 
 trembling, almost agonised hopelessness with which we gazed 
 around, searching for human guidance, when, in the Providence 
 of God, we were first brought into a position of difficulty and 
 left to act according to our own discretion, with our faith in 
 the judgment of others shaken, and our confidence in our- 
 selves — nought. And this was Myra's trial, as it is the trial 
 of hundreds who, like her, have within themselves the power 
 and the will to act rightly and fearlessly, but whose faults 
 have hidden from themselves the strength of their own char- 
 acters. 
 
 God's system of education is very unlike man's. He does 
 with us what we should never venture to do with ourselves. 
 Man must guide, and check, and make definite rules, and map 
 out the lines of duty ; God places us where there seems to be 
 no guidance, no definite law — where rules are intricate, and the 
 path of duty is vague : and when, in our weakness, we would 
 fain find support in the wisdom of an idol of our own uprearing, 
 He dashes it to the ground, and leaves us standing powerless 
 and alone to work out our career for ourselves. So, at least, 
 we say. Whether the complaint be true — whether we are really 
 to be powerless and alone, is the question which must, for 
 the most part, be determined for each of us by the spirit in 
 which we meet that first trial. As the horses and chariots of 
 fire, though hidden from mortal sight, guarded the prophet of 
 old, so the strength and the wisdom of God are guarding the 
 children of His love, though their eyes are blinded and they 
 cannot know it. Alone, yet not alone ; perplexed, yet secretly 
 guided ; weak, yet strong with a strength which the bravest of 
 worldly hearts might envy ; — it needs but one prayer of stead- 
 fast faith, one fervent appeal to the boundless wisdom, the 
 unwearying sympathy, which have been theirs long, long before
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 297 
 
 they have learnt to seek them — and discouragement has 
 loosened its chitting hold, and the young heart springs upwards 
 with a vigour of purpose, a noble consciousness of power, which 
 is worth all the aid and all the direction that the wisest of 
 earthly friends could bestow. True, indeed, it is a trial which 
 not all can stand. There are those who must be tended and 
 advised at each step, and for them God most mercifully provides 
 the outward helps which are essential. And there are others 
 also, who, reckless in their self-confidence, seeing no help from 
 their fellow-creatures, and not caring to seek it from God, 
 rush forward blindly to their destruction ; but it is not the 
 less true that the highest natures, those most fitted to exer- 
 cise responsibility and be the leaders of thought and action, 
 whether in public or in private, are in most instances trained 
 apart by God, through the direct orderUigs of His Providence, 
 without the intervention of man. Little do they know at the 
 time of the aim and purpose of their lives. Whilst struggling 
 with difficulty, and disheartened by the sense of their own 
 infirmity, little can they feel of the steadfastness of purpose, the 
 clearness of judgment, which they are hourly gaining. It is 
 only when looking back — possibly after many yeare, possibly 
 at the very close of life, with the blessed assurance of victory 
 won, and the glorious crown already in sight, — that they can 
 venture to recall the difficulties of that season of peril. Then 
 indeed will they look up to God with humble thankfulness, — 
 acknowledging that He who hath done all things well is in this 
 most worthy of humblest gratitude, that, by leaving them 
 destitute of human support, He compelled them to cast them- 
 selves upon Him. 
 
 But those thoughts were far off from Myra in her sick- 
 chamber in a foreign land. As she lay restless upon her bed, 
 and so feverish that she was unable to collect her ideas, it 
 seemed an impossibility to settle what was to be done, or how. 
 At one moment she determined to write to Mr. Verney ; but 
 the inexperienced girl of sixteen writing to the man of forty — 
 and such a man, so clever, so sarcastic, so well versed in the 
 ways of the world! — it was a task for which she felt herself 
 buite unfitted ! And what could she say to him ? How could
 
 298 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 she express herself? In what way could she appeal to him? 
 Admiration, awe, even something like respect, still kept their 
 hold upon her. The idol was not quite shattered, and ii Myra's 
 secret heart there lingered the hope, though scarcely the belief? 
 that some undreamt-of explanation would restore it to its 
 former perfection. No ; she could not write to him and accuse 
 him. Or again, she would write to her father, her mother ; 
 she would consult Dr. Kingsbury ; she would speak to Mrs. 
 Hensman. But it was a question of honour. Mr. Verney had 
 confided his engagement, trusting to her secrecy. Charlotte 
 Stuart had given her confidence in the tone and spirit of one 
 who knew that it would not be betrayed. There was only one 
 thing to be done — she must see Mr. Verney and talk to him. 
 He was always so kind to her, so sympathising ; he would 
 understand the pain she suffered, he would forgive her ; and 
 he might — yes, she ought to believe and expect it — he might 
 explain his conduct. And then Myra went through the inter- 
 view in her own mind, feeling herself all the humiliation which 
 she believed Mr. Verney would feel, and then imagining his 
 answer, and being crushed with shame by the discovery that 
 she had been guilty of a most unjustifiable accusation. Or else, 
 — supposing it all true, and picturing to herself his anger and 
 scorn, and Rosamond's distress, and in all probability the 
 necessity of applying to her father, and confessing not only Mr. 
 Verney's misdeeds, but her own share in the concealment. 
 Myra trembled at the prospect, and at last remembered there 
 was a third alternative — to let everything take its course. The 
 engagement with Charlotte Stuart, as Mrs. Tracy acknowledged, 
 was virtually at an end. Why, then, was she to trouble herself 
 with it? The pecuniary affairs were in no way her concern. 
 What could she know about them ? No doubt her father 
 would make due inquiries, and if he was satisfied, what right 
 had she to suggest suspicions of Mr. Verney's integrity ? She 
 might write to Charlotte Stuart and say, that upon considera- 
 tion she felt that it would be better not to interfere personally 
 between her and Mr. Verney, and therefore, the ring and the 
 hair should either be sent back, or else forwarded with a note 
 from Miss Stuart herself, as soon as she reached England.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 299 
 
 To adopt this alternative was a sore temptation, resisted, 
 returning, resisted again, and even then not overcome, but only 
 adding to Myra's physical and mental disturbance, though still 
 the innate truth and strength of her character compelled her to 
 see that the difficulty lay not in the conflicting claims of duty, 
 but in the necessity of rousing her moral courage. If she had 
 not feared Mr. Verney, she would have felt no perplexity ; 
 whilst, however she might reason upon the various results of 
 her possible decision, one thing was clear : that the consequences 
 of human actions are uncertain, and therefore can never be a 
 safe rule of right. It took a long time before Myra perceived 
 the force of this axiom, self-evident though it is. It dawned 
 upon her only by degrees ; it might have been the answer to 
 her intensely earnest and ,'perfectly sincere prayer, and even 
 then the shrinking timidity of her woman's nature made her 
 long to put it aside. It was too rigid ; it made too little allow- 
 ance for circumstances or human infirmity ; and though at 
 sixteen Myra could not reason upon its strictness, yet she felt 
 it. Even when at length, after arguing and counter-arguing, 
 it stood out clear, and she saw that there was no escape from 
 it, and that it must lead her to speak openly to Mr. Verney 
 at whatever cost of pain, she acquiesced in it with a hesitating 
 submission, very unlike the assured satisfaction of mature age, 
 when once it has arrived at a decision, and feels that that 
 decision is right. 
 
 Strong in will, impulsive and passionate in feeling, alarmed 
 at the consciousness of her own force of character, Myra could 
 have thrown herself unreservedly upon any guidance which 
 came before her with a claim of authority ; and at the moment 
 when she most needed it, she had nothing to aid her but the 
 still small voice which none can hear save the upright in heart. 
 
 God help those who stifle it, for it is a voice which, when 
 once unheeded, grows fainter and fainter, until at length it fails 
 to be distinguished from the subtleties of human reasoning.
 
 5oo A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 And while all this conflict of thought was wearing away Myra's 
 strength at Munich, what was the state of Mr. Cameron's house- 
 hold at Paris ? 
 
 The news of Myra's illness had been received with very 
 varied feelings. Mr. Cameron, annoyed at not being able pre- 
 cisely to carry out the plans formed, in his own opinion, with 
 consummate wisdom, felt — as he often did feel when things 
 went wrong — that somehow the world might be improved by 
 being governed differently. Mrs. Cameron had from anxiety 
 an attack of nerves, which made her more dependent upon 
 Rosamond than usual, and therefore more inclined to miss 
 and want Myra. Edmund, with a dawning suspicion that 
 Rosamond was not quite open in all her actions, was vexed 
 at not being able to talk out his uneasiness with the sister 
 who, though so much younger than himself, had lately been 
 peculiarly congenial to him. Rosamond, though expressing 
 publicly a due amount of disappointment, was not sure whether 
 she was glad to be freed from Myra's scruples, or sorry to lose 
 her sympathy ; and Mr. Verney felt as if an intolerable load 
 had for the time been removed from his shoulders, and was 
 only anxious to make use of the breathing space allowed him 
 before Myra's presence — full as she would be of St. Wolfgang 
 and its guests — should increase the awkwardness and the risk 
 of his position. 
 
 So it was that Mrs. Verney, urged on by her own delight in 
 the exercise of her manoeuvring powers, and by her nephew's 
 indolent impatience, determined at once to break the ice, and 
 bring before Mr. Cameron's mind the first idea of the marriage. 
 She had never been more careful or exercised more delicate 
 tact. She was not, of course, to propose in Mr. Verney's name ; 
 that would have been taking from him his man's privilege and 
 position. She was only to insinuate, to sound, to suggest the
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 301 
 
 idea, and then propound the difficulties herself, instead of 
 allowing Mr. Cameron to do so ; and in that way to awaken a 
 spirit of contradiction on the right side. By raising imaginary 
 objections, she was to exercise his skill in knocking them down 
 with the decisive blow which a man always delights to aim at a 
 woman's weak argument. When by this means she had en- 
 listed his temper and his pride on the side of her secret wishes, 
 she was quietly to retire from the field, and leave it open to 
 Mr. Verney to come forward and make the direct attack, which 
 she prophesied must, after such a preparation, be immediately 
 successful. 
 
 Poor Mr. Verney ! he had never felt more grateful to any one 
 in his life. His was an unutterably mean position, and he was 
 not mean by nature. To plan a deception, to carry it on con- 
 sistently, was not a pleasure to him as it was to Rosamond. 
 He had been a gentleman once, in the world's sense of the 
 epithet, and he could not as yet realise the fact that he was not 
 one still. He might break a heart — that was quite consistent 
 with the most refined feelings — but he could not deliberately 
 go and declare himself possessed of a good professional income 
 and a tolerable private fortune, when he knew that in strict 
 justice he had not at that moment a penny which he could call 
 his own. It was a most happy suggestion for him that Mrs. 
 Verney should first introduce these dangerous topics. She 
 would do it in perfect good faith. She might utter unnumbered 
 falsehoods, but they would to her own mind be truth ; and Mr. 
 Verney's task would then for the most part be limited to a mere 
 confirmation of her statements. A positive declaration is one 
 thing, an assent is another, at least in the eyes of a moral 
 coward ; and as Mr. Verney reposed upon the velvet couch in 
 his aunt's salon, and listened to her report of the various con- 
 versations which were held, and the progress which the affair 
 was making, he became at length so fascinated by Mrs. 
 Verney's description of his prospects, as she had placed them 
 before Mr. Cameron, that the truth faded gradually more and 
 more from his mind ; and before the day of trial arrived he was 
 able to face the awkward demands of his false position with a
 
 J 
 
 02 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 boldness which, in a better cause, would have been quite 
 exemplary. 
 
 All this was extremely hard upon Mr. Cameron, so very 
 unsuspicious as he was, having his eyes so carefully blinded 
 by the veil of his own supreme self-idolatry. How was such 
 a man to suppose that he could possibly be taken in on the 
 question of his daughter's marriage ? Other persons might 
 blunder, might act hastily, might be influenced by unworthy 
 motives, or, what was yet more likely, might be such fools as 
 to be weakly won over to consent to what their better wisdom 
 disapproved. But Mr. Cameron ! — why, he had no passions, 
 no prejudices — he was absolutely untouched by the ordinary 
 infirmities of human nature. Let the whole world be wrong, 
 yet he must be right; and when he said 'yes,' the man would 
 be an idiot who should venture to declare that he ought to 
 have said ' no ! ' 
 
 The idea of woman's influence in such a case was an ab- 
 surdity. Look at the way Mr. Cameron ruled his wife ; look 
 at her almost abject submission, her utter prostration of con- 
 science and intellect before the shrine of his supreme authority. 
 Listen to him when he spoke of women generally. Watch with 
 what dignified courtesy he quietly put their opinions aside 
 whenever they differed from him ; how blandly sarcastic he 
 was in manner ; how politely compassionate to their physical 
 weakness ; how patronising to their intellectual powers. One 
 might as well have imagined a man in full possession of his 
 powers allowing himself to be directed by an infant in long 
 clothes, as Mr. Cameron in any way directed by a woman ! 
 
 Mr. Cameron had indeed begun his short residence in Paris 
 with a strong determination to keep the two families apart, but 
 when a man is conscious of his own strength of purpose in- 
 wardly, he can afford to be a little inconsistent outwardly. A 
 most benevolent desire to give his friends the benefit of his in- 
 fallible judgment induced him to listen complacently when Mrs. 
 Verney complained of the noise of the hotel they had chosen, and 
 asked his opinion as to the desirableness of taking rooms else- 
 where. It would have been quite unkind to throw off a person 
 who evidently trusted so much to his wisdom, especially as the
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 303 
 
 Colonel was worse than ignorant in all matters appertaining 
 of foreign life, and uttered his few words of French with a 
 vehemence of false accent quite excruciating to Mr. Cameron's 
 most correct ear. Mr. Cameron had chosen the best apart- 
 ments in the best situation for himself, and he could not possibly 
 avoid stating the fact. It would have been unfair to himself 
 not to have done so, for with his reserved, rather stiff style of 
 conversation, which was not at all egotistical in small matters, 
 the world might otherwise have remained ignorant of the per- 
 fection of his travelling arrangements. 
 
 It was quite natural for Mrs. Verney to exclaim in reply : 
 ' The best in Paris ! then there can be no hope for us of any- 
 thing but second-best ; but yours is such a charming situation. 
 Is it absolutely impossible, do you think, to find apartments in 
 the same hotel ?' 
 
 Doubtless Mr. Cameron might have thrown eold water upon 
 the idea, and would have done so, if this had been all, but when 
 Mrs. Verney added, 'To be under the same roof with you 
 would be everything to us — your advice would be so invalu- 
 able ; ' the assertion was so entirely in accordance with Mr. 
 Cameron's own views, that he really could not help admitting 
 it, and as a necessary result felt himself bound in conscience 
 to further the plan. 
 
 Thus Mrs. Verney established herself an second, and when 
 the unhappy Colonel, oppressed by the weight of sixty years, 
 and constantly threatening gout, toiled and panted up the end- 
 less stairs, and wondered why on earth she had brought him 
 to such a tower of Babel, she sweetly smiled, and drew his easy 
 chair to the window, and bade him rest and enjoy himself with 
 the charming view, and the columns of the 'Times,' and then 
 glided away to a few moments' enlivening chat with her ' dear 
 Mrs. Cameron,' ending, as opportunity offered, with a request 
 for a little advice from her ' excellent Mr. Cameron.' 
 
 The little adviee became a lengthened conversation ; the 
 lengthened conversation did its work, and at length the die was 
 cast. After a short and somewhat embarrassed interview, in 
 which Mr. Verney told no actual falsehood himself, and only 
 implied that the statements Mrs. Verney had made were in the
 
 304 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 main correct, he was allowed to seek Rosamond, in order, as it 
 was supposed, to communicate to her for the first time the state 
 of his feelings. 
 
 Rosamond, when afterwards summoned to Mr. Cameron, 
 played her part with the most perfect grace and simplicity. 
 She was modestly shy, deeply touched by her father's kindness 
 and generosity of feeling, and finally brought to the confession 
 that he had made her supremely happy ; — and so the engage- 
 ment was acknowledged. 
 
 When the fact was announced to Mrs. Verney, she poured 
 forth a torrent of congratulations and approval, quite sufficient 
 to convince Mr. Cameron that he had acted — as indeed, how 
 could he have done otherwise ?— the part of a tender, watchful, 
 wise, self-sacrificing parent. 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Cameron, you have been only too good in this 
 matter. I could not have expected as much in a similar case 
 from the Colonel. He, you know, though most excellent, allows 
 himself at times to be carried away by political feeling, until 
 the claims of private life are unfortunately ignored. But you 
 are so calm, so far-seeing, so raised above all petty rivalries. 
 Your dear child's happiness is to you so superior to every other 
 consideration. And my dear nephew ! you have raised him to 
 the very summit of felicity.' 
 
 'Mr. Verney confesses himself deeply attached to my 
 daughter, and expresses great satisfaction at the prospect of a 
 union with my family,' said Mr. Cameron, raising his head so 
 as to show the full height of his very stiff cravat. 'I could 
 have wished, Mrs. Verney, that some things had been different, 
 but I waive the objections. I have considered them, and I 
 waive them.' 
 
 'Ah ! most kind ! most unworldly ! would that there were 
 more like you ! We should not then so often see young people's 
 happiness wrecked by considerations of mere interest.' 
 
 'My dear madam, understand me. I cannot look upon 
 these questijns as you ladies do. An affaire die cceur (Mr. 
 Cameron was always pleased to bring in a French expression 
 that he might give his hearers a lesson in pronunciation) is to 
 you, I am well aware, one of primary importance, and, pardon
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 305 
 
 me for saying that it sometimes engrosses your sympathies so 
 as somewhat to warp your judgment. The reverse is the case 
 with me. I wish to consider my daughter's feelings, but I 
 should be wrong to act without reference to her material 
 interests. If I were to do so, I should ultimately sacrifice 
 both.' 
 
 'Most true,' replied Mrs. Verney. ' The old proverb, " When 
 poverty comes in at the door, love flies out at the window," is I 
 fear but too true.' 
 
 'Proverbs, my dear madam, contain the wisdom of ages. 
 That which you have so aptly quoted is a remarkable example 
 of this statement, and acting upon it, I could not of course 
 listen to your nephew's proposal without fully weighing the 
 position in which my daughter would be placed as his wife. 
 Now, I freely own that this is not in all respects such as I 
 have been in the habit of contemplating for her. Rosamond is 
 singularly endowed ; she must command admiration. I might 
 have anticipated for her a brilliant position, — rank, fortune, 
 social, even political influence. But, my dear Mrs. Verney, I 
 have lived to see the instability of human greatness ; I have 
 learned to rise superior to it. When you so candidly pointed 
 out to me the objections to the union, I saw them. I was 
 indeed more alive to them than you could possibly have been 
 yourself; but I reasoned thus. If, I said, I interpose to prevent 
 this marriage, the responsibility of my daughter's happiness 
 will for the future rest upon me. Am I prepared to accept it ? 
 This was my question, a very important one, as you will no 
 doubt admit ; and I answered it in the negative. Then again 
 you suggested the awkwardness which might arise from the 
 different views which the Colonel and myself are apt to take of 
 political subjects. I could not deny your statements. I know 
 that in the generality of cases political differences are likely to 
 become private differences, but I felt — forgive me for saying so 
 — I felt that yours were the fears of your sex, accustomed as 
 they are to be governed by impulse. I have no fears for myself, 
 my dear madam. I am confident — not, I hope and believe, too 
 confident — of my own self-control ; and I may safely engage, 
 that however vehemently Colonel Verney may think fit to ex- 
 
 U
 
 3 o6 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 press his dissent from my opinions, I shall always receive that 
 dissent with calmness, and shall never permit it to interfere 
 with the courtesies which the union of the two families may 
 demand. There remained then only one point for considera- 
 tion ; and here again I give you full credit for the openness with 
 which you expressed your alarm lest the income which Mr. 
 Verney could offer, might not be sufficient to provide my 
 daughter with the luxuries to which she has been accustomed. 
 I granted the correctness and the weight of your calculations, 
 but I felt bound to place in the opposite scale the fact that these 
 luxuries were not absolutely essential. I considered, and I 
 believe I was justified in considering, that if Mr. Verney could 
 offer but a comparatively small income for a few years, yet the 
 experience of those few years might be ultimately beneficial to 
 Rosamond by giving her habits of economy ; and I know that, 
 should your nephew's health be spared, as I trust it may, the 
 income of a civil appointment must increase, whilst my daughter 
 (though she is not aware of the fact) is certain to receive a con-. 
 siderable increase of fortune by the death of her aunt. I con- 
 fided this fact to you in secrecy, but it naturally held a fore- 
 most place in my deliberations. The result was as you know ; 
 I sacrificed private feelings, and what might perhaps be called 
 a justifiable ambition for my child, and have given her to the 
 man of her choice. The world may disapprove ; perhaps it 
 will, but I have acted considerately, prudently, conscientiously, 
 and I am satisfied.' 
 
 ' Indeed you have reason to be.' Mrs. Verney was so affected 
 by Mr. Cameron's touching summing up of his own merits, that- 
 her voice actually faltered, and to spare the betrayal of her weak- 
 ness, she had recourse to a tender pressure of the hand. And 
 Mr. Cameron himself was for the moment almost unmanned. 
 It was rarely he received such winning sympathy; and when 
 Mrs. Verney softly murmured, - We understand each other ; 
 now let us go to your dear wife,' he really did feel that to pur- 
 chase such true appreciation of his virtues, he could admit to 
 terms of brotherly intimacy, not only the passionate Colonel, 
 but even the motley crew of Liberals, his political followers, upon 
 whom, when the door of his chamber was closed, and the world
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 307 
 
 was not near to listen, Mr. Cameron was apt to bestow epithets 
 which it would be by no means seemly to repeat. 
 
 One great point was gained, but there were two others, almost 
 equally important to be attempted. The first to induce Colonel 
 Verney to recognise the proposed alliance graciously, so as not 
 to offend Mr. Cameron's pride, and the second to hasten the 
 marriage before any obstacles could arise to prevent it. The 
 former was Mrs. Verney's task, and she felt now the full benefit 
 of the conversation by which she had so prudently prepared her 
 husband's mind for what was to come. The outburst of con- 
 tradiction with which, as a rule, Colonel Verney considered it 
 incumbent upon him to receive all propositions, had already in 
 some degree had its vent. What remained could very well be 
 borne by Mrs. Verney, certain as she was of ultimately bringing 
 him round to her own views. With admirable discretion she 
 carried him off to Versailles the very day of his nephew's pro- 
 posal, and did not allow him to hear of what had taken place 
 till they were comfortably settled in their hotel, with a quiet day 
 L ^fore them. Having him then completely in her own power, she 
 broke the intelligence gradually, agreed with him in seeing all 
 the disagreeables, listened with exemplary patience to his re- 
 capitulation of everything Mr. Cameron had ever said or done 
 to annoy him, and at length so soothed him, that by the follow- 
 ing morning he was in a condition to take upon himself the part 
 of forgiving and forgetting, which best suited his really generous 
 disposition, and to write a cordial note to Mr. Cameron, accept- 
 ing the marriage with a very good grace. 
 
 Mr. Verney's business, that of hastening the marriage, was 
 more difficult. 
 
 The idea of India had not hitherto been a serious objection 
 to the marriage in Mr. Cameron's mind, because he had looked 
 forward to it in the distance. An event which might take place 
 some time in the next year gave leisure for preparation, and 
 Mr. Cameron could accept most changes with equanimity so 
 long as his dignity was not disturbed by his being hurried. 
 Lut to be told that Rosamond must be married, and ready to 
 leave England in a month's time, would be an announcement 
 the effect of which no one could calculate. He had so far
 
 3o8 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 accepted the new state of affairs as to acquiesce in the proposal 
 that they should go home at once, but this was merely a con- 
 cession to feminine weakness. 
 
 ' Ladies,' as, with a patronising smile, he observed to Mrs. 
 Verney, 'ladies are apt to be excited by the prospect of a wed- 
 ding. They believe that it involves an amount of work which 
 cannot be completed under many weeks. I see no cause for 
 such haste myself. The marriage is as yet only an indefinite 
 idea for the future. We shall have full time for a consideration 
 of the details when the event is fixed. At present I should 
 suggest that little might be said about it. It involves gossip, 
 my dear Mrs Verney ; and gossip, as you will agree with me, 
 is objectionable. Still, as to our return, I give in. In Mrs. 
 Cameron's state of health I should be sorry to disturb her, and 
 she fancies that it is necessary to be at home ; therefore I 
 give in.' 
 
 These very vague notions of time were of most serious 
 moment to Mr. Verney. He had made retreat impossible, and 
 all that remained for him was to carry out his plans boldly 
 and speedily, for always in the background was a vision of 
 Myra returning from St. Wolfgang with remarks, suspicions, 
 and questions, which he might not be able to parry, and which 
 might risk the loss of all that he had sacrificed honour to 
 obtain. And Mr. Verney 's position as regarded Rosamond 
 was by no means happy or satisfactory. Whilst he had been 
 uncertain of obtaining his prize, there had been a little excite- 
 ment in striving for it. Doubt as to whether she cared for 
 him had roused his vanity, and served as an incentive to the 
 efforts he made to please her ; and when first secretly engaged, 
 they were separated, and had no opportunity of trying each 
 other's tastes, or testing the stability of their professed affec- 
 tion. But once acknowledged as Mr. Verney's affianced bride, 
 and Rosamond was fully determined to enjoy all the privileges 
 of her condition. They are privileges which a woman can never 
 enjoy twice, for a second marriage must, of course, be quite 
 matter-of-fact, compared with a first. To be idolised, and made 
 the centre of attraction, though only for a few weeks, must be a 
 most tempting pre eminence for many. Rosamond delighted in
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD 309 
 
 worship, and worship she was resolved to have. She was the 
 most sweet and gentle-mannered of tyrants, but she allowed her 
 slave no rest. Mr. Vcrney, intensely indolent, devoted to self- 
 gratification, roused only by the interest of literature or art, was 
 called upon to accompany Rosamond in her walks and drives ; 
 to wait for hours whilst she was making her little purchases, to 
 take part in discussions upon dress, to pay visits to tiresome 
 people, to give up everything which had a tendency to occupy 
 his exclusive attention ; and if he showed the slightest symptoms 
 of rebellion, to receive a shower of complaints, quiet, but sharp as 
 the quills of a porcupine, which perhaps only feminine irritation 
 could invent ; and which were all the more unendurable because, 
 though aimed at random, they were sure to strike upon that 
 one point — the sincerity of professed affection— in which Mr. 
 Verney was defenceless. 
 
 He was to be pitied. He might have been open to contempt 
 
 if the world had known the truth ; but he was much more to be 
 
 pitied. He had never deliberately intended to sin against truth 
 
 and honour ; he had drifted away from them — that was all. 
 
 The currents of life had been too strong for him, and his very 
 
 talents had hidden the fact from him. So keen and vivid in 
 
 his perceptions when he chose to exert them ; so quick in 
 
 seizing the negative on all subjects — in seeing what ought not 
 
 to have been said or done ; so cleverly cynical ; so courteous, 
 
 even when he withered with his censure, it had never once 
 
 struck him that the least, the very least, practical effort 
 
 after goodness, even let it be never so great a failure, is 
 
 better and nobler than the most clear-sighted view of human 
 
 imperfections, or the most eloquent criticism upon human 
 
 plans. His words had been a veil to his deeds throughout his 
 
 whole life ; but words have no power over feelings, and still, in 
 
 the secrecy of his heart, Mr. Verney's thoughts reverted to the 
 
 sorrow-stricken girl, brought face to face with the destiny of 
 
 misery which he had himself prepared for her, and which, in 
 
 his better moments, he would even now have averted from 
 
 her, at any sacrifice short of the courage required to draw 
 
 back instead of to go on. For Mr. Verney was no monster of 
 
 wickedness and cruelty. There was much good about him —
 
 3 lo A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 not in him, but about him — hovering near, overshadowing his 
 faults, but not making its home in his heart. Yet he did not do 
 the less evil ; and now, because he felt that to stand still was a 
 greater danger than to advance, his very cowardice made him 
 bold ; and four days after the engagement was first recognised, 
 he suddenly announced to Mr. Cameron that, from private infor- 
 mation, he was led to expect a recall to India almost immediately, 
 and that, under these circumstances, he was compelled to press 
 the question of an immediate marriage. If a delay could after- 
 wards be obtained, Rosamond would be able to remain with 
 her own family until the last moment, but the marriage itself 
 was a necessity. Mr. Verney blundered in using that word 
 ' necessity.' Mr. Cameron was far too elevated above the rest of 
 mankind to recognise any necessity but his own will, and the 
 inadvertence caused Mr. Verney a two hours' argument, ending 
 very nearly in a complete rupture. It was only through the aid 
 of Mrs. Verney's flatteries that he again carried the day, and 
 left Mr. Cameron satisfied with the conviction, so dear to his 
 self-appreciation, that he was, as usual, acting the part of a 
 paternal martyr. 
 
 They started for England, and Rosamond was to be married 
 in three weeks.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF TUB WORLD. 31! 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 'A LETTER for you, Myra,' said Mrs. Hensnian, coming 
 into Myra's room at Munich before the latter was dressed, 
 and laying before her a very English-looking document, 
 directed in a large legible hand. Mrs. Hensman had no 
 fear of the exciting contents of that letter; it certainly did 
 not come from home ; the handwriting belonged neither to 
 Mrs. Cameron nor Rosamond, and they had been Myra's 
 only correspondents for the last fortnight. Besides, if it 
 were not so, Myra was better and stronger, and they were 
 talking of leaving Munich, and it would be impossible then 
 to keep from her the intelligence which had been conveyed 
 to Mrs. Hensman, a few days previous, that Rosamond 
 was engaged to Mr. Verney. And really it did not seem 
 there could be any reason for making a mystery of it. 
 Rosamond and Mrs. Cameron had indeed both written 
 anxiously, entreating that Myra might not be informed of 
 it until she was quite strong, as it was likely to excite 
 her too much ; but Mrs. Hensman did not understand 
 the excitement of young ladies about anything except their 
 own marriage, or some subject connected with it, and she 
 gave the newly-arrived letter to Myra, in the full belief 
 that, whatever might be its contents, it would do her good 
 rather than harm. And certainly, to judge from Myra's 
 exclamation and smile of delight, Mrs. Hensman had judged 
 wisely. 
 
 ' From Mrs. Patty ! How very good of her ! Please, dear 
 Mrs. Hensman, open the blinds ; I am so much obliged to 
 you for bringing it.' 
 
 Myra was much altered, even from that short illness. 
 Her features had a thin sharp look, and her eyes were 
 almost painfully bright. And she was very nervous too ;
 
 312 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 her hand trembled so much that she could not open the 
 letter herself. If Mrs. Hensman had been a more diligent 
 observer of human nature, she might have remarked these 
 symptoms, and wondered at their cause • but she had one 
 explanation for all phases of illness — fatigue and bilious- 
 ness, long journeys and foreign cookery ! And Myra had 
 rested for a fortnight, and been fed on chicken and rice, 
 and of course, therefore, she was recovering rapidly, and 
 all that remained to make her uncomfortable would soon 
 pass off. This confidence in Myra's improvement was a 
 little shaken, however, as Mrs. Hensman lingered in the 
 room whilst the letter was being read. Myra's face showed 
 such unmistakable eagerness, surprise, and distress, as to 
 create a very uneasy misgiving as to the wisdom exercised 
 in giving it her. 
 
 'No bad news, my dear, I hope?' she ventured to say; 
 and Myra looked up, and answered hurriedly, ' Oh no ! 
 none, thank you,' and went on reading, and of course Mrs. 
 Hensman left her. 
 
 This was Mrs. Patty's letter :— 
 
 ' My dear Myra, — The Doctor and I have heard that 
 you are not well, and we are troubled at the news, though I 
 am not thinking that you are very ill for one or two reasons — 
 first, because I know your mamma is coming home to-morrow, 
 and next because Mrs. Pearson told me to-day about Rosa- 
 mond's being about to be married so soon to Mr. Verney. 
 Neither of these things would be thought of if your friends 
 were anxious about you ; but the Doctor and I still think it 
 must be very uncomfortable to be ill in a foreign land, where, 
 as I have always heard, there is more show than comfort, and 
 we wish you to know that we think about you. As to Rosa- 
 mond's marriage, I wish her more happiness than falls to the 
 lot of most people ; and I hope she has chosen well, and will 
 make a good nurse to her husband when he grows old, which 
 he is likely to do many years before she does. You are so 
 fond of Mr. Verney, my dear Myra, that I dare say you are 
 very glad to have him for a brother-in-law. I wish he may
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 313 
 
 prove a good as well as a pleasant connection, but ii he will 
 stay in India it will not so much signify. The Doctor sends 
 you his best love, and would very much like to sec you. 
 When he heard you were ill, and kept behind at Munich, he 
 began to think that he should not live to do so, for he grows 
 very weak, and does less and less each day. But, as I tell 
 him, God most times takes off the earthly garments of us 
 old people slowly, in order, no doubt, not to hurry or frighten 
 us. And I don't see myself all the bad symptoms which he 
 sees. Mr. Harrison comes to him every day, and so does 
 Mr. Baines, and he is able to talk to them both. Mr. Baines 
 told him yesterday that Johnny Ford is quite a different boy 
 since he has been at the Asylum, which was very pleasant 
 hearing for the Doctor, and will be the same for you also, as 
 you were so interested in him. I always remember the day 
 you and I went to see Johnny — the day that Mr. Verneycame 
 to luncheon. How little I thought then how much he would 
 have to do with your family ! Mr. Baines has asked for a 
 little holiday, and is likely to be away at the wedding, if, as 
 1 hear, it is to come off soon. He is not looking very well; 
 I wish he did not want to go just now, but health must be 
 attended to. Dear Myra, I shall be very pleased to see you 
 again. The Doctor says you will be a comfort to me by and 
 by, and he pleases himself with thinking that I shall be nearer 
 to you in my little cottage than I am now. He made the 
 landlord come and see him last week, and settled how they 
 were to manage for me to have two little parlours and a bed- 
 room for a friend. Poor dear ! it comforts him to look after 
 everything for me, but my thoughts turn more to a resting- 
 place in Paradise than to any rest on earth. And I shaH 
 soon follow the Doctor. He and I often talk of it, and he 
 says he does not doubt that he shall be allowed to come 
 and meet me. It would be very home-like and pleasant if 
 it were so j but anyhow I could never feel lonely or strange 
 with my Blessed Saviour to take care of me, and so I tell 
 the Doctor, and he and I are quite happy, and quite willing 
 that things should be as they are ; and so must you be, dear 
 Myra. We shall all shed sorrowful tears, no dcubt, when
 
 314 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLDS 
 
 the time comes to say good-bye • but I have learnt to feel 
 that tears are of many kinds, and that there are some which 
 God's love so sweetens that one should be loth to exchange 
 them for smiles. 
 
 ' And now I must say good-bye, for Faith is going to the 
 post, and to do some errands in the village, and if I write 
 any more I shall make her late in returning. I send my best 
 love, and the Doctor bids me add his blessing. We shall 
 both look anxiously for news of your being better. — Your very 
 affectionate old friend, Martha Kingsbury.' 
 
 Myra read through the letter to the end. What impression 
 she received from the latter part it would be difficult to say. 
 There are times when the utter dissimilarity between those 
 who are living for this world, and those who are living for the 
 next, presents itself to us so vividly that they appear scarcely to 
 belong to the same race of created beings. That simple trust- 
 ing mind which could accept parting and grief, Death and 
 Eternity so quietly, what connection could it have with the 
 false, selfish, sceptical heart which seemed destined to work 
 misery for all who were brought in contact with it? Myra 
 read Mrs. Patty's words of confidence in God as if they were 
 the words of the Bible, but it was impossible to feel that they 
 could be an everyday reality. The one reality to her at that 
 moment was cold-hearted deception and its consequences. 
 Rosamond to be married to Mr. Verney immediately ! Then 
 it was all known, acknowledged, settled; and she had not 
 been told of it. For an instant every other feeling was swal- 
 lowed up in the bitterness of wounded pride, and the thought 
 crossed her mind that, as she had been wilfully kept in igno- 
 rance, events must take their course, and she could not be 
 responsible for them. But again, why had she not been told ? 
 What motive could there be for withholding the intelligence ? 
 Myra was too generous to indulge an angry feeling ground- 
 lessly, and she seized upon the doubt at once. Mrs. Patty 
 did not say how, or from whom she had received the informa- 
 tion ; and surely, if the news were true, Mrs. Hensman would 
 have heard it, but she evidently knew nothing. It would be
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 315 
 
 better to wait quietly, not to say or do anything, at least for 
 a few days, when there would doubtless be a confirmation, or a 
 refutation of the report. And Myra strove to be patient, and 
 exerted herself to dress, and then went into the salon, a 
 tried to read, and talk, and be natural; and failed so entirely 
 to conceal her nervous uneasiness, that Mrs. Hensman secretly 
 decided that she had made a mistake in giving her the letter, 
 as it had so evidently done her harm, and that it would be a 
 dangerous experiment to repeat. The one thing to be done 
 was to keep her quiet, and get her to England as soon as 
 possible. When once in the care of her own family they 
 might treat her as they thought best. And with this idea 
 Mrs. Hensman wrote by that day's post, quite agreeing that 
 nothing should be said about the engagement at present, and 
 suggesting that frequent letters were upon the whole rather to 
 be avoided than encouraged; Myra was so nervously excited 
 with the least thing, and then the feverishness returned, and 
 the weakness consequent upon it. Mrs. Hensman hoped to 
 be in England with her in the course of a fortnight, and there 
 everything might be broken to her prudently. 
 
 The days wore on lingeringly, anxiously, doubtfully, and 
 Myra improved so little, if at all, that Mrs. Hensman at 
 length moved in despair. They travelled slowly to Stuttgardt, 
 Heidelberg, Frankfort, Coblentz, Cologne, Liege, Lille, resting 
 often for a day, but always with such uncertainty in their 
 movements that there was no opportunity of receiving letters, 
 and still Myra did not even know decidedly where Mr. Verney 
 was, still less had she time or power to write to him. But 
 she was going home ; in a few days she would be in England. 
 It was only to be patient; to pray to be shown what to do ; 
 to ask for courage that she might not fail in her duty ; that 
 she might say the right thing in the right way. How often 
 she went over in her mind the dreaded interview need not be 
 told, nor how she pictured to herself Mr. Verney's withering 
 smile and quiet sneer, and thought how he would hate, per- 
 haps despise her — and marry Rosamond after all. Myra 
 never believed that she should prevent the marriage. Her 
 confidence in Mr. Verney's power was far too strong for that.
 
 316 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 He would carry his point and put her aside, and she would be 
 his sister, but not as he once might have been. He would 
 never forgive her — never love her again ; and even now Myra's 
 heart was so earnest, so true in its affection, that the thought 
 drew bitter tears from her eyes. 
 
 The Hotel Dessin, at Calais, was not reached till late at 
 night. The wind howled through the uncarpeted passages, 
 and the rain beat against the imperfectly-fastened windows, 
 and a distant roar of the angry sea was heard as the under- 
 tone to every burst of the tempestuous wind ! But it was for 
 one night only, — anything may be borne for one night ; and 
 there are very many worse shelters from a storm than the 
 Hotel Dessin. When Myra was told, however, the next 
 morning, that it was too rough for her to be allowed to cross 
 the Channel, her heart absolutely failed her, and she burst 
 into tears. "j 
 
 ' Weakness of spirits, consequent on loss of strength,' said 
 Mrs. Hensman ; and perhaps she was right At any rate, 
 she was more confirmed in her resolution not to run any risk ; 
 and the faint hope which Myra had entertained of being able 
 to gain her point, and be permitted to cross at all hazards, 
 was extinguished. She sat down in the comfortless salon, 
 not even attempting to read, but trying to amuse herself by 
 watching the sturdy peasants, who, regardless of the rain, to 
 which French people generally seem to be supremely indif- 
 ferent, were trudging through the streets with their sabots 
 clattering on the rough ftavd. But a white cap and a wooden 
 shoe were no longer novel sights, and Myra's eye was much 
 more quickly caught by the black coat and white necktie of 
 an English gentleman, a clergyman evidently, rather young, 
 not very dignified in his appearance or walk, but surely, Myra 
 thought she knew him — doubted, looked, doubted again ; then 
 as he finally stopped before the entrance to the hotel, ex- 
 claimed, 'Mr. Baines!' and, absolutely forgetful of propriety, 
 almost ran out of the room to meet him. 
 
 Mrs. Hensman was very glad to see an English face, though 
 it might be that of a person nearly a stranger. Colonel Hens- 
 man laughed, and declared that his little friend Myra was so
 
 A GLIMPSE OP TUB WORLD. 317 
 
 excited, he could not but fear the meeting would be dangerous ; 
 but still, in a foreign country, civility was a first duty ; and 
 he forthwith went downstairs to renew his acquaintance with 
 Mr. Baines, and invite him to join them in their private 
 salon. 
 
 Mr. Baines, struggling with the difficulties of a French 
 sentence, and a first experience of francs, sous and centimes, 
 received the invitation with a thankfulness which was quite 
 touching ; and confiding his purse to the Colonel, who 
 promised to make all due payments, and engage his bed- 
 room for him, was ushered upstairs by the waiter, and when 
 the door of the salon was opened, found himself alone with 
 Myra. His first exclamation was one of pleasure; his next 
 of most perplexed surprise. 
 
 'Are you not intending to cross ? Surely you are going ?' 
 
 1 Mrs. Hensman won't go,' said Myra ; ' she is afraid of 
 the storm.' 
 
 'But not going? You will be too late ! Is it impossible?' 
 
 ' Not at all impossible ; but I am not allowed.' 
 
 ' But you must go — surely you must. You will not be 
 in time.' 
 
 ' Not in time for to-day, but in time for to-morrow.' 
 
 ' But a day will make so much difference. I don't under- 
 stand.' 
 
 'Neither do I,' said Myra. 
 
 ' You intend to be present, of course ? ' 
 
 ' Present at what ? Please to speak out, Mr. Baines. You 
 look so strange. What is the matter ? ' 
 
 ' But — surely, it can't have been kept from you. The day 
 after to-morrow is ' 
 
 ' What ? ' 
 
 ' Your sister's wedding day.' 
 
 Myra turned very pale, sat perfectly still for about two 
 seconds, and then rose and walked slowly out of the room. 
 Almost immediately afterwards Mrs. Hensman entered. Mr. 
 Baines stood up to explain, and attempted to apologise for 
 having been abrupt, but Mrs. Hensman interrupted him : 
 ' Excuse me ; we will leave all that. Is this news true ?'
 
 3i8 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' Quite true.' 
 
 ' The day after to-morrow ? ' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly. I understood that Miss Myra Cameron 
 was expected at home yesterday.' 
 
 Mrs. Hensman thought for a moment. ' Is the packet 
 gone ? ' she rang the bell. It was not answered for several 
 minutes ; Mr. Baines proposed to go in search of Colonel 
 Hensman ; Mrs. Hensman followed him, but the landlord 
 of the hotel was met on the stairs, and the question was 
 repeated. 
 
 ' He did not know whether the packet was gone ; he 
 would inquire ; he thought it possible — probable ; he would 
 return directly.' But ten minutes, which seemed an hour, 
 went by, and still he did not come. At length the answer 
 was brought — the packet was at that very moment leaving 
 the harbour. Mrs. Hensman gave a sigh of relief, and led 
 the way back to the salon. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Baines,' she said, as she sat down on the velvet 
 but cushionless sofa, and begged him to take the arm-chair 
 opposite, ' we have time before us ; you must tell me all 
 about it. It is a most inexplicable and unfortunate blunder. 
 I knew, certainly, that Rosamond Cameron was engaged, 
 but this marriage is a thunderbolt.' 
 
 It was placing the unhappy young curate on the rack, but 
 he bore the ordeal with great outward composure. ' Mr. 
 Cameron's family,' he said, ' had been in England, as doubt- 
 less Mrs. Hensman knew, for more than a fortnight. Miss 
 Cameron's engagement had been announced directly they ar- 
 rived, and he always understood that the marriage would 
 be speedy, but he had heard nothing definite till ten days 
 ago, when he was told that no time could be lost, as Mr. 
 Verney was under the necessity of starting immediately for 
 India, and that the wedding day was fixed. At the same 
 time, he understood that Miss Myra Cameron was on her 
 way home, and would probably arrive there three or four 
 days before the wedding. Beyond this he knew nothing. 
 As to why he had chosen that precise time for leaving 
 Yare, and escaping the wedding festivities, Mr. Baines said
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 319 
 
 nothing. He confined himself to a bare narration of facts, 
 given in a dry tone, and with considerable rapidity of utter- 
 ance. 
 
 Mrs. Hensman listened politely, but it was evident that she 
 scarcely heard what he said ; and when he ended, instead 
 of making any direct reply, she merely remarked, ' I see how 
 it is ; they must have written to Munich after we left it. We 
 went off earlier than we had intended, in order to have a 
 day at Heidelberg. How very provoking ! ' 
 
 ' But you were prepared ; you knew of the engagement,' 
 said Mr. Baines. 
 
 ' Oh yes, in a way ; that is, Colonel Hensman and myself 
 did. But it has been kept from Myra — she has been so 
 unwell, and she is so easily excited. We wanted her to be 
 at home, and be told of it by her own family quietly.' 
 
 ' And I mentioned it so suddenly ! ' exclaimed poor Mr. 
 Baines, looking alarmed at the thought of the possible mis- 
 chief he had done. 
 
 Mrs. Hensman gave him no consolation ; she did feel 
 very unreasonably provoked with him, and she said coldly, 
 ' It is too late to regret, and Myra must have been told before 
 to-morrow. She will be at home now in time.' 
 
 ' But it is so startling — it will all seem so hurried ; and she 
 will lose a day with her sister,' said Mr. Baines, in the tone 
 of one who thought the latter vexation too serious to be en- 
 dured with anything like equanimity. 
 
 ' Myra is too sensible to fret unnecessarily,' was the reply ; 
 but Mrs. Hensman did not apparently feel as certain of this 
 fact as her words implied, for, without any apology, she went 
 immediately to look for Myra, and poor Mr. Baines was left 
 to meditate upon his blunder and his disappointment, and 
 console himself as best he might with Murray and a foreign 
 Bradshaw, or, when they failed, to amuse himself with the 
 novelties of the sabots and blouses, the torrents of rain, and 
 the pave streets, which had so entirely failed to interest Myra.
 
 3 20 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 1 No news of Myra ? ' said Mrs. Cameron, watching her hus- 
 band anxiously as he opened the post-bag at breakfast time. 
 
 ' I do not see what news you are to expect, my dear ; Myra 
 will be here almost as soon as a letter could reach us. Rosa- 
 mond, these documents are for you ; a secretary will be 
 required to answer them.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron handed Rosamond a collection of letters, 
 some congratulatory, some from tradespeople and milliners. 
 They were glanced at, and laid aside with an air of quiet 
 importance, and Rosamond continued her breakfast. 
 
 ' I shall be very glad when this turmoil is over,' observed 
 Mrs. Cameron plaintively ; ' and I don't understand about 
 Myra. I thought she would certainly have written a few 
 lines to her sister. And it is such a storm to-day ! They 
 cannot possibly cross, and Myra will not be able to try on 
 her dress. Are you sure, Rosamond, that Conyers gave the 
 right pattern ? And then she has been ill, and perhaps she 
 is thinner; it would be so very awkward if the dress did not 
 fit. Don't you think it impossible for them to cross to-day, 
 Mr. Cameron ? ' 
 
 ' I think nothing impossible, my dear, that is necessary. 
 Myra must come ; I told Mrs. Hensman so. If they had 
 done wisely, they would have taken the Ostend passage and 
 have been here yesterday. It is very unwise to hasten things 
 in this way.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron looked a dignified rebuke at Rosamond as 
 he said this, for in his secret heart he was not quite easy as to 
 Myra's silence ; and whenever he was uncomfortable he solaced 
 himself by blaming some one for some thing. Just now, 
 everything disagreeable was laid to the charge of the hurry 
 and business occasioned by the wedding.
 
 A GLIMPSE OP THE WORLD. 321 
 
 1 I can't help thinking it was foolish in us to keep her so 
 much in ignorance/ continued Mrs. Cameron; 'she will be 
 so very much startled, and she takes things to heart curiously 
 sometimes. But then we did not know anything ourselves for 
 certain till quite lately. It is a thousand pities Mr. Verncy 
 could not have waited a little longer.' 
 
 ' Myra will do very well, mamma,' said Rosamond, in a tone 
 of quiet assurance, which was like an opiate to Mrs. Cameron's 
 nervous fidgetiness. ' She will have sufficient time to think 
 and reconcile herself to everything on the journey, and she 
 will have been spared a great deal of confusion and worry by 
 not having been here the last fortnight.' 
 
 ' Certainly, that is very true. I have never suffered so 
 much in all my life from the whirl of things as I have since 
 we came home. I have not been able to settle myself in the 
 least, and Conyers seems to have no time to attend to any- 
 thing. And now, to-day, how many people are coming ? ' 
 
 ' I have made a list, my dear,' said Mr. Cameron, ' I will 
 read it to you.' 
 
 He drew a paper from his pocket-book, and went through 
 the names of aunts, uncles, cousins, intimate friends, per- 
 sons who were certain to come, persons who were doubtful, 
 persons who had been asked and refused, persons who would 
 like to come but could not, till poor Mrs. Cameron felt as 
 if she had been looking at a merry-go-round, and the various 
 individuals mentioned flitted past her bewildered brain, and 
 became absolutely undistinguishable. 
 
 I desire to do everything with method,' said Mr. Cameron. 
 1 There is nothing like method for the avoidance of confusion, 
 more especially when time presses. You will understand now, 
 my dear, all that you have to do, and I will leave a copy 
 of this paper with you for your instruction. Juliet,' and he 
 turned to the two younger children, who had been brought 
 from school to be present at their sister's wedding — ' you write 
 a good and legible hand, let this list be copied for your 
 mamma, and then return it to me.' 
 
 ' And who did you say were coming to sleep ? 'inquired Mrs. 
 Cameron; 'I did not quite understand.' 
 
 X
 
 322 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 1 The paper, my dear ! You will have nothing to do but to 
 consult the paper. Rosamond, I shall require your attendance 
 in my study this evening. The necessary legal documents will 
 by that time be prepared.' 
 
 'And if Myra should not come?' inquired Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 ' Myra will come, my dear. She must come, and she will. 
 I beg that you will not distress yourself.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron begged in the tone of command, and his wife 
 was silenced ; but when he had left the breakfast table she 
 again confided her misgivings to Rosamond. 
 
 ' There was a storm, that was certain ; and packets did not 
 always cross in stormy weather, and what should they do if 
 Myra did not come ? ' — observations which had all been made 
 and answered before, and Rosamond's only resource was to 
 divert Mrs. Cameron's mind for the present by talking of the 
 crowd of visitors, whilst earnestly hoping in her own mind that 
 Mrs. Verney would, as usual, drive over from Stormont early, 
 and use her all-powerful influence for the quieting of Mrs. 
 Cameron's nerves. 
 
 Rosamond really was to be admired that morning for the 
 tact, patience, and self-possession which she displayed. Myra, 
 under similar circumstances, would not have done half as well. 
 Rosamond might have been the most unselfish of mortals, to 
 judge by the care and thought which she bestowed upon all 
 things and all people. Mrs. Cameron complained of hasty 
 arrangements, and had more than once been heard to prophesy 
 that nothing could by any possibility be properly managed when 
 so little time was allowed for preparations ; but Rosamond had 
 from the first determined that whether much haste or little 
 were to be used, she would not bate one iota of the essentials 
 of a wedding ordered in the best style ; and quietly and dili- 
 gently she had worked, not only for the last fortnight, but even 
 before they left Paris, with the view of being ready at the 
 appointed time. 
 
 ' Miss Cameron is so far-seeing about everything,' said 
 Conyers to Mrs. Pearson, when the wedding was discussed that 
 same day in the housekeeper's room. ' Would you believe it, 
 she had ordered half her dresses before any one else would
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 323 
 
 have thought about them, and now she takes everything as 
 quietly as if she had been getting ready to be married for the 
 last six months. Mr. Vcrney would not find many ladies with 
 such thought. Just imagine what poor Miss Myra would 
 have done in the same case ! Why, she would not have had 
 a thing ready, even at the last moment. Well ! there are 
 some people born with brains for common use, and some with 
 brains for uncommon ; and for my part, I begin to think the 
 common ones get through the world much the best.' 
 
 'Very true, Conyers,' was the reply, 'but, do you know, 
 I can't help taking a greater fancy to Miss Myra of the two. 
 I shouldn't like to be her lady's-maid, and no doubt you speak 
 feelingly ; but Miss Cameron is never caught in the wrong in 
 anything, and somehow that strikes me as being what my 
 Scotch grandmother used to call " uncanny."' 
 
 Uncanny or not, Rosamond was most surprisingly useful 
 on that day. Not even to Mr. Verney, on whom she had 
 latterly vented any secret feelings of annoyance, did she show 
 the slightest shade of impatience, fretfulness, or discontent. 
 She was evidently basking in the sunshine of her position, 
 supremely pleased with herself, and only one degree less 
 pleased with every other person. As for Mr. Verney, he was 
 the root and author of it all, and of necessity received his due 
 share of appreciation. Rosamond was sweetly deferential to 
 him now, at least whenever any one was present. It belonged to 
 the part of a Jjance'e, and she would on no account have been 
 otherwise. If she had no eyes to see that he was cold and 
 irritable almost to nervousness, that his face looked haggard, 
 that he started at sounds which were perfectly natural, exa- 
 mined the weather-glass as though some important event de- 
 pended upon it, and was so abstracted that he often answered 
 her questions in a way which was scarcely sensible — who was 
 to blame her? She had gained her object. She enjoyed the 
 eclat of her engagement, and looked forward to the dignity 
 of a wife. Mr. Verney was clever and exclusive, and she was 
 proud of his admiration. She liked him, and, indeed, believed 
 she loved him. He was too indolent to contradict her, and 
 with him she thought that she should be more her own mistress
 
 324 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 than she could be in her father's house. In short, marriage 
 had presented itself as rather an agreeable and exciting possi- 
 bility, and as there seemed no particular reason against it, it 
 appeared better to accept it. Rosamond had taken care of 
 herself, and Mr. Verney had, no doubt, taken equal care of 
 himself. It was only unfortunate that he did not show his 
 contentment to the world, or at least to that portion of it 
 which was prepared to criticise. Mr. Cameron, indeed, was 
 absent as usual j Mrs. Cameron was closeted with Mrs. 
 Verney, or engrossed in busy nothings ; and the guests who 
 arrived by instalments were at first too much occupied with 
 themselves, their journeys, and their requirements for comfort, 
 to scan his words or actions very closely. But the servants 
 made their remarks freely, and by them it was decided that 
 Mr. Verney looked much more as though he was preparing 
 for his execution than for his wedding ; ' a thing not to be 
 wondered at,' as Conyers observed, ' seeing that the gentleman 
 was nothing on such occasions, and every one wished him out 
 of the way. It was only when the wedding was over that he 
 would have things according to his own fashion. If they 
 would just wait a little they would see quite a change, for she 
 knew from what she had heard at Stormont, that Mr. Verney 
 was not a gentleman to be put upon by any one.' 
 
 The early part of that day was occupied by Rosamond in 
 giving orders for Mrs. Cameron ; the afternoon was devoted 
 to farewell visits in the village, in order to leave the next day 
 absolutely free for packing and final arrangements, so that 
 there might be no confusion on the wedding morning. Mr. 
 Verney offered to go with her, but Rosamond negatived the 
 proposal. They might meet possibly at the Rectory, she said, 
 but parish visits she preferred paying alone ; they would be 
 managed more quickly. 
 
 The visit to the Rectory was Rosamond's last duty. She 
 delayed it till she had only ten minutes to spare, if she hoped 
 to be at home in time to dress for dinner. Mrs. Patty had 
 engaged that the Doctor would see her at any hour. Weak 
 though he was, he would make every effort to say good-bye to 
 her- a more solemn good-bye far than any which Rosamond
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 325 
 
 contemplated ; but she either could not or would not face the 
 fact, and tripped as lightly up the stairs to the sick-room, as 
 though she was about to enter a ball-room. 
 
 Yet even Rosamond was sobered when she approached her 
 old friend. There is a vast difference between the aspect of 
 illness, however serious, and of death — a difference which none 
 can understand who have not witnessed it. We may watch 
 by a sick-bed, week after week, month after month, and feel 
 no hesitation in bringing to it the pursuits and amusements of 
 common life. We smile, and the smile is without sadness ; we 
 laugh, and the mirth gives us no shock. We even wish, as we 
 say, to distract the invalid's thoughts ; we know that business 
 and pleasure imply the existence of a hope of recovery, and we 
 feel that by encouraging such a hope, we do in fact strengthen 
 life. But there is a look, indescribable, but instantaneously 
 felt, which acts upon us like the solemnity of a religious rite. 
 As we gaze upon it, business becomes profanation, and mirth 
 a mockery. Death has laid its grasp upon that mortal frame, 
 and death, however gentle its approach, is the summons to a 
 Presence before which every interest, thought, and enjoyment 
 of earth must be tested for eternity. 
 
 Rosamond Cameron was the selfish, frivolous devotee of 
 this world, when she crossed the threshold of Dr. Kingsbury's 
 chamber ; but when she sat down beside the old man's bed, 
 and caught the earnest expression of his glassy, deep-sunk eye, 
 and the flickering of his heavily-drawn breath, she was the awed 
 frightened worshipper of a power which for the moment touched 
 her conscience to the quick, and withdrew the veil from the self- 
 deception of her life. She was very silent, very still, and the 
 old man held her hand, and looked at her steadily. ' You are 
 kind in cominar,' he said, with a tenderness of tone which Rosa- 
 mond had rarely heard. 
 
 ' I wished to say good-bye,' said Rosamond, ' and to-morrow 
 I might not have time.' 
 
 ' A long good-bye ; not a good-bye for ever. God grant it, 
 my child.' 
 
 ' Thank you, sir,' and a tear dimmed Rosamond's eyes ; 
 1 but I hope — I think I may see you again before I sail.'
 
 326 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' As God wills. I have done little for you, my dear. I 
 ought to have done much. May God forgive me.' 
 
 ' Oh ! sir, indeed, indeed ' — and Rosamond looked per- 
 plexed and troubled — ' I ought to be much better than I am.' 
 
 ' I have done little for you,' he repeated ; 'but I pray for 
 you. Will Mr. Verney come and see me ? I should like to 
 see him.' 
 
 ' He v. ill be here almost directly, I expect,' replied Rosa- 
 mond, feeling relieved at the introduction of an ordinary topic. 
 ' But are you sure, sir, it will not tire you to see him ? ' 
 
 ' Not at all, if he will forgive my talking much. My breath 
 grows very short ; I cannot enjoy his conversation as I did. 
 I trust we may meet where there will be no such drawbacks.' 
 
 ' Doctor, dear, don't tire yourself,' said Mrs. Patty, looking 
 in at a doorway which opened into a dressing-room. 
 
 ' I will take care, Patty, thank you. Will you bring me 
 the book ? ' 
 
 M 's. Patty entered with a heavy tread, to which, however, 
 the old man seemed quite insensible ; she placed a Bible 
 upon the bed, and went away. 
 
 ' I daresay you have several, my dear,' he said to Rosa- 
 mond, as he pointed to it, 'but I give you what I value most. 
 When you look at it ' — he paused for breath, and at that 
 moment a shadow darkened the doorway, and Mrs. Patty 
 again came up to the bedside and said — 
 
 ' Mr. Verney, Doctor ; only for one instant. I have told 
 him he must not stay longer.' 
 
 The old Rector's eyes lighted up with a gleam of their 
 former interest, and when Mr. Verney approached, without 
 waiting for any greeting, he took his hand, and joined it 
 with Rosamond's, and murmured as he held them both, 
 ' Grant that they may so live together in this world, that in 
 the world to come they may have life everlasting.' 
 
 There was no response, but Mr. Verney 's face was ashy in 
 its paleness. Rosamond sat down trembling. 
 
 1 Shall I move the book, Doctor ? ' said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 But he laid his hand upon it. ' I was saying — 1 # wished 
 to say — Mr. Verney, death is the truest of all tests.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WOULD. 3,7 
 
 ' It is not death with you yet, Doctor, I hope,' began Mr. 
 Verney. 
 
 ' Yes, sir, it is death • not perhaps to-day, or to-morrow, but 
 death inevitable, and very soon. My dear,' and he turned to 
 Rosamond, ' the Bible is for you both. Mr. Verney, a dying 
 man's words are for you both. Christianity is truth • Christ 
 is everything. Live for Him ; for there is nothing else worth 
 living for.' 
 
 A sigh rose from the depths of Mr. Verney's breast, and he 
 said in a tone low and earnest, and in which there yet blended 
 somewhat of his natural sarcasm, ' I wish you could give me 
 the legacy of your faith, Doctor ; I should be a better man 
 than I have ever been yet.' 
 
 ' Sir, it will not come by wishes ; it will come by prayer. 
 But we should have spoken of these things before.' 
 
 ' Yes, indeed we should • that is, if it would have done any 
 good ; but I am afraid it is too late now.' 
 
 ' Too late, too late for so many things. Lord, I pray Thee 
 to pardon me ; ' and the old man clasped his hands together, 
 whilst an expression intense in its sorrowful humility rested 
 upon his sharpened features. 
 
 Mrs. Patty came forward. ' That is enough, Doctor, dear. 
 Now Mr. Verney, it you please.' 
 
 Dr. Kingsbury looked at Mr. Verney intently, and mur- 
 mured a solemn farewell ; and then, as Rosamond drew nearer, 
 he took her hand and pressed it to his lips with a half pater- 
 nal, half courtly tenderness, and said, as he released it, ' My 
 child, I would give you my last blessing.' 
 
 She knelt, and laying his hand upon her head, the old 
 Doctor committed her to •' God's gracious mercy and protec- 
 tion, and prayed that the Lord would lift up His countenance 
 upon her, and give her peace, both at that time and ever- 
 more ; ' and then Rosamond rose up and left the room 
 with Mr. Verney, feeling for the time a better Christian in 
 spirit than she had ever been before in the course of her 
 whole life.
 
 328 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 So gay they were that evening ! Mr. Verney seemed quite 
 to have rallied from any depression of spirits, and was really 
 the life of the party. They were mostly relations who had 
 arrived, and every one felt at liberty to be at home, and Rosa- 
 mond enjoyed showing her presents, which gave topics for 
 conversation ; but better than anything, a telegraphic message 
 had been received from Calais, stating that it was impossible 
 to cross because of the gale, but that Myra might certainly 
 be expected the next day. Mrs. Cameron therefore was no 
 longer uneasy, and having again been assured by Conyers 
 that Miss Myra's dress was certain to fit her, felt herself no 
 longer burdened by responsibility, especially as Rosamond 
 herself promised to take especial care of Myra's 'toilette,' 
 so that she might not, according to her mother's fears, make 
 herself remarkable by being quite a figure on the wedding 
 morning. Mrs. Verney was more than ever amiable and 
 agreeable under the burden of the preparations for the com- 
 ing event. She quite undertook the duties of hostess at the 
 Hall, when Mfs. Cameron was too tired to exert herself, and 
 went through a series of pleasant flatteries to the elderly 
 relations, whilst Rosamond played, and sang, and talked 
 with the younger ones ; Mr. Verney hovering near her, 
 watching her as though she had been a pretty and petted 
 child, and every now and then leading her out to some quick 
 repartee, which, uttered in Rosamond's sweet voice and with 
 her very quiet manner, never failed to be perfectly lady-like. 
 In that respect Mr. Verney had certainly chosen well. His 
 wife would never offend his taste. And Rosamond was more 
 to be loved that evening. She was more real, more genuine in
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 329 
 
 her good-nature, more earnest and simple in all she said. The 
 better part of her nature had been touched by the old Doctor's 
 farewell, and its influence still lingered with her. But it was 
 only lingering ; there was no depth in the feeling ; it awoke 
 no self-scrutiny, no penitence; it was accompanied by no 
 resolutions. The blossom was fair to the eye, but the plant 
 had no root, and in a few hours it would fade. By the next 
 morning it had faded. 
 
 How, indeed, could it be otherwise? No leisure was there 
 for thought or regret, for hope or fear, on that crowded, busy, 
 most matter-of-fact day. We idealise important occasions. 
 We look forward to them as we imagine they ought to be ; 
 as in fact they are in spirit ; but we forget that the material 
 forms in which they are presented to us will at the moment, in 
 all probability, entirely prevent our realising this spirit. If 
 we have not learnt to perceive the unseen and invisible under 
 the veil of our ordinary life, we shall be unable to discover 
 it when it is presented to us under circumstances which are 
 extraordinary. They who live with falsehoods — fashion, 
 vanity, worldly ambition, self-importance — as if they involved 
 lasting interests, will be blind when brought in contact with 
 the most impressive realities, because, in the ordering of 
 God's Providence, the same forms invest both truth and 
 deception, the things of Time and the things of Eternity ; 
 and only the eyes which have been opened by His grace can 
 see the immeasurable difference between them. 
 
 Rosamond Cameron's last day of preparation for her wed- 
 ding was, as such days always must be, distracted by orders, 
 interruptions, trials of temper, little disappointments, cares 
 of the most minute character. And as Rosamond had never 
 trained herself to see in all such daily occurrences anvthine 
 by which to elevate her mind by the exercise of self-discipline, 
 or lead her above the world by the very turmoil and an- 
 noyance which beset her in it ; so now they entirely over- 
 powered the higher yearnings which the thought of death had 
 awakened. The seed had been sown in the heart, but the 
 cares and the pleasures of life were already springing up and 
 choking it.
 
 33o A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Mr. Verney was not like Rosamond ; he was too indolent, 
 too indifferent, to be engrossed by petty business. He gave 
 his orders to his servants, and then left them to be executed. 
 It was not in his way to trouble himself, except to find fault 
 when anything was forgotten or done amiss. And it might 
 be that he did see deeper into the meaning of all !that was 
 going on ; that he did in one sense realise more of its im- 
 portance. Boxes and packages, dresses and presents, were 
 nothing to him, and he gave them no attention ; but the 
 prospect of relief from pecuniary care, and the attainment of 
 luxury and worldly position, were a great deal ; and all these 
 were involved in his approaching marriage ; and, therefore, 
 whilst smiling patronisingly upon Rosamond, he kept himself 
 as much as possible aloof from the business which gathered 
 round her ; as though marriage was too serious to admit of 
 such lighter considerations ; and looked, moved, and spoke 
 with dignity and calmness, and in his secret heart was — 
 miserable. 
 
 ' Myra must be here soon,' said Mrs. Cameron, entering the 
 schoolroom where Edmund, Juliet, and Annette were engaged, 
 under Rosamond's superintendence, in packing a box of books 
 and drawings, which were especially to be cared for. ' It is 
 getting on for five o'clock, and your father said certainly she 
 would be at home in time for dinner.' 
 
 ' Godfrey says she can't come till after eight,' said Juliet, 
 ' and he must know.' 
 
 ' I don't see, my dear, why Godfrey is to know better than 
 your father. I shall go and ask Mr. Verney. I know he is 
 in the library, and really I am anxious.' 
 
 ' Let me go,' said Edmund, ' though I don't suppose he can 
 tell us more than Bradshaw.' 
 
 ' Godfrey understands Bradshaw best,' persisted Juliet, 'and 
 he and I looked at it last night, and settled it.' 
 
 ' Then of course it will be so,' said Rosamond, laughing. 
 
 'Of course,' repeated Edmund. 'It is such a pity that 
 Godfrey and Juliet can't undertake the government of the 
 world ; they would manage it admirably.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 331 
 
 ' With Mr. Verncy to help us/ said Juliet. ' I am sure he 
 lays down the law more than any one.' 
 
 ' Only he does it in a discreet way,' observed Rosamond. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Juliet meaningly, 'he is very discreet. We all 
 know that; don't we, Annette?' 
 
 'Juliet, the sooner you go back to school the belter,' re- 
 marked Edmund sharply. 
 
 ' I meant no harm,' replied Juliet in a tone of mock humi- 
 lity. ' I only repeated what Miss Greaves said.' 
 
 ' Edmund, if you would just go and look for Mr. Verney, 
 and bring him here,' said Mrs. Cameron. ' And, Juliet, you 
 must learn not to be pert. What does it signify what Miss 
 Greaves said ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing now, mamma, certainly,' replied Juliet. ' And 
 Miss Greaves has never really known Mr. Verney ; though 
 she has heard things said of him.' 
 
 Rosamond looked up quickly, but she did not ask what 
 Miss Greaves had heard. Juliet, however, answered the 
 glance. 
 
 ' She heard of him, you know, from that young Indian lady, 
 Miss Stuart, whom people said he was going to marry.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' was Rosamond's short reply. 
 
 'And you can't think how surprised she was, when Mrs. de 
 Lancey told her of your engagement. Rosamond. She would 
 not believe it at first, and I was so glad when I could prove it 
 was true, though I heard Miss Greaves say to Mrs. de Lancey 
 that Miss Stuart has been jilted.' 
 
 'Juliet, this gossip is wrong and unladylike,' observed Mrs. 
 Cameron severely ; ' don't let me hear any more of it.' 
 
 But Rosamond only smiled, and said gently, ' Oh yes, 
 mamma, if you please ; it is amusing to know the nonsense 
 the world talks. Let me hear it all, Juliet.' 
 
 ' Yes, let us hear it all ; ' and Juliet felt a hand laid lightly 
 on her shoulder, and, turning round, saw Mr. Verney standing 
 behind her. ' Young ladies' stories of their schools arc a 
 revelation of a new world.' 
 
 Juliet coloured crimson, shook off Mr. Vemey's hand, and 
 remained silent.
 
 332 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 There was a most awkward pause. ' Mysteries !' said Mr. 
 Verney. ' I won't inquire, but you might trust me.' 
 
 ' No mystery,' observed Mrs. Cameron ; ' but Juliet brings 
 home schoolroom gossip, and I don't approve of it.' 
 
 ' It was not gossip, it was truth,' murmured Juliet to Annette; 
 but Annette was prudent, and took no notice. 
 
 Rosamond busied herself with the packing, but that she 
 was uncomfortable was very evident. Mrs. Cameron had re- 
 course to Bradshaw, and engaged both Mr. Verney and 
 Edmund's attention in the endeavour to explain it, which, as 
 her sight was so bad that she could not read the figures, was 
 no easy task. Mr. Verney glanced at Rosamond more than 
 once, and when at length Mrs. Cameron released him, he went 
 up to her, and said : ' You are tiring yourself; you had better 
 let me help you.' 
 
 1 Thank you, no • I can manage for myself,' and Rosamond 
 turned decidedly away from him. 
 
 ' Isn't it so curious how days come over again ? ' exclaimed 
 Juliet. ' Don't you remember, Mr. Verney, the day we were 
 packing for Rosamond before she went up to London, how 
 you came in just when she was looking over a portfolio as she 
 is doing now, and how. you admired the " Bridge of St. 
 Martin?'" 
 
 ' Yes,' he said, ' I have reason to remember it • ' and draw- 
 ing nearer to Rosamond, he added, in a tone intended for no 
 one but herself, ' It was the gift of that drawing which first 
 gave me confidence.' 
 
 Juliet's quick cars had, however, caught the words, and with 
 her usual utter want of tact, she exclaimed : ' It was only half 
 Rosamond's after all. It did duty for Annette too, when it 
 was wanted, so it was very convenient. It gained Annette a 
 
 prize, and ' 
 
 Edmund interrupted her. ' Juliet, it strikes me that both 
 you and Annette chatter much more than you work. You 
 may just as well put on your bonnets and come for a walk 
 with me. Perhaps, though, my mother wants you ? ' 
 
 ' No.' Mrs. Cameron did not want them ; ' she was going 
 to lie down in her own room ; she was very tired, and her eyes
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 333 
 
 ached ; she wished Myra was at home to read to her, and then 
 perhaps she might go to sleep.' Annette offered to take Myra's 
 place, but Mrs. Cameron was fanciful about reading. She was 
 accustomed to Myra, and could not reconcile herself to any one 
 else ; and Edmund, who seemed bent upon taking possession 
 of his two younger sisters, and leaving Mr. Verney and Rosa- 
 mond alone, repeated his proposal for a walk, and succeeded 
 in dispersing the party. 
 
 Whether his thoughtfulness was appreciated, remained to 
 be proved. Rosamond continued her occupation, Mr. Verney 
 stood by her ; neither spoke for some seconds. Then Mr. 
 Verney said, ' And you won't let me help you ? ' 
 
 ' No, thank you.' 
 
 ' There is something the matter, Rosamond.' 
 
 ' Nothing, thank you.' 
 
 ' That means something ; I must know.' 
 
 1 And if I do not choose to say ? ' 
 
 'You are annoyed at some nonsense of Juliet's?' 
 
 ' I have not heard any nonsense that I am aware of.' 
 
 ' Some sense then ; something she has told you.' 
 
 ' She has said nothing to annoy me.' 
 
 Mr. Verney bit his lip. ' Rosamond, I can't stand this.' 
 
 ' Neither can I. Would you kindly move out of the light ? ' 
 
 He made a gesture of impatience, and was going away. 
 Then he stopped, and said : 'Are we to go on in this way all 
 day ? ' 
 
 'In what way? I shall soon have finished what I am 
 doing.' 
 
 ' You mean to drive me wild ! ' he exclaimed. ' How can 
 I explain what is amiss if you won't tell me what it is ? ' 
 
 'There is nothing amiss. I daresay your young Indian 
 friend has recovered her disappointment by this time, and of 
 course she is the only person to be pitied.' 
 
 Mr. Verney turned very pale. 
 
 ' I see,' continued Rosamond bitterly, ' there is no need of 
 explanation. It is all very natural. I don't find fault, only 
 I think I might have been told.' 
 
 ' Told ! what ? That intolerable school gossip ! '
 
 334 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' Yes, it is quite intolerable.' 
 
 ' But what is it ? For pity's sake, Rosamond, don't go on 
 ivith this absurd mystery.' 
 
 ' I merely follow your example,' said Rosamond. ' If you 
 had plainly told me, when I alluded to a similar report in 
 Paris, that you had been engaged before, I should have under- 
 stood it. I am not jealous.' 
 
 ' But I was not engaged ; I was — it is all nonsense. What 
 do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Only that I should have felt it was treating me more 
 honourably to be quite open, as I have been with you. I 
 have never been engaged till now. I should have told you 
 if I had been.' 
 
 ' Engaged ? folly ! absurdity ! Do you suppose, Rosamond, 
 that a man of my age is bound to confess every passing 
 fancy ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not. A passing fancy and an engagement are 
 very different.' 
 
 'And if I had been engaged, where would have been the 
 harm ? ' 
 
 ' None at all. Though I don't know that it is pleasant to 
 go about the world, as the person who has caused another to 
 be jilted.' 
 
 ' I don't allow that word, Rosamond.' 
 
 ' I don't wish you to allow it. Tell me only that I may 
 contradict it.' 
 
 ' I will not answer the question ; it is an insult. Rosamond, 
 you can't doubt me.' 
 
 ' I don't want to do so,' said Rosamond more gently, 'but 
 I cannot have a child like Juliet sneering at me. And — I 
 should like to know the truth.' 
 
 ' Would you ? ' and he smiled a little sarcastically ; ' it 
 would be very easily told. You had better apply to the 
 circulating library, and read how often foolish men have 
 been caught by pretty faces, and then repented. Seriously, 
 it is not worth your inquiring about ; only I can't bear to 
 see you unlike yourself. Was the young lady's name 
 Stuart ? '
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 335 
 
 He hesitated as he spoke the name, but Rosamond did not 
 remark it, and before she could answer, he went on quietly, 
 ' An Indian fancy ! one must have something to amuse 
 oneself with in such a wearisome life. And all men take to 
 flirting more or less. I don't pretend to say that I was 
 better than the rest, and I daresay the young lady — as most 
 young ladies do — considered it a more serious occupation 
 than I did. But it is not worth your troubling yourself about, 
 love. Won't you believe me ? ' 
 
 Rosamond was touched by the tone. Her pride rather 
 than her affection had been wounded, and to see Mr. Verney 
 in the least humble, quite satisfied her. 
 
 She looked up and smiled, as she answered : ' I only wish 
 you would take Juliet in hand. She is much worse than she 
 used to be, and she was intolerable enough before. I wonder 
 how it is that nothing can ever make her a lady.' 
 
 Mr. Verney shrugged his shoulders. ' Nature ! ' he said. 
 'It is always too strong for art. But leave her tome; she 
 shall not torment you any more.' 
 
 ' She has no reserve, no discretion,' continued Rosamond. 
 'And she piques herself upon it ; she calls it truth.' 
 
 ' Truth which is not always to be spoken,' said Mr. 
 Verney. 
 
 ' No ; in this respect she is somewhat like Myra, who is 
 also at times uncommonly awkward and disagreeable in what 
 she says. Don't you think so ? ' 
 
 Mr. Verney made no answer. 
 
 1 I forgot — Myra is such a pet of yours/ continued Rosa- 
 mond, interpreting his silence ; ' you won't be satisfied till 
 you have seen her.' 
 
 'Perhaps not,' and Mr. Verney very quickly left the room.
 
 cn6 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 How he did despise himself! There is no feeling so utterly- 
 unendurable as that. And Mr. Verney was not a man to take 
 out his actions, examine, and make excuses for them. He 
 was too proud to own that he was wrong, too indolent to 
 endeavour to prove that he was right. His effort for years 
 had been to escape from himself, and he was an adept in 
 the art. When, as a youth, he did what conscience con- 
 demned, he simply strove to forget it, and so he did now. 
 And under the circumstances in which he was placed, he 
 could have forgotten, he could have made himself fairly com- 
 fortable, if only he had not been haunted by an apparently 
 unreasonable dread of Myra's return. How she could inter- 
 fere with him, indeed, he did not see ; and whatever she 
 might say, he had but to adopt the same tone which had just 
 succeeded so well with Rosamond, for there is nothing like 
 acknowledging a report up to a certain point if one wishes to 
 stop it. But, after all, Mr. Verney had not lost the feelings 
 of a gentleman, however little he might retain those of a 
 Christian ; and when he was compelled to evade, equivocate, 
 perhaps even to utter a direct falsehood, he despised himself, 
 and then he was wretched. He wandered into the garden 
 now, and finding Godfrey Cameron there, endured the pen- 
 ance of his society for nearly an hour, because he could not 
 bear to be left alone. He strolled into Mrs. Cameron's bou- 
 doir, and again went through all the Bradshaw calculations, 
 in order to occupy his thoughts ; he almost determined to walk 
 down to the Parsonage and inquire after the rector, but he 
 was afraid of being asked to walk upstairs, and he could not 
 face another interview with a dying man, and that man Dr. 
 Kingsbury; and at length, as the dinner hour approached, 
 he hurried back to Stormont, dreading, as he said to Rosa- 
 mondj to be scrutinised before the appointed time by a fresh
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 337 
 
 relay of guests ; and, by the aid of a cigar, a novel, and his 
 toilet, contrived to distract his mind until the carriage was 
 announced which was to take him to dine at the Hall. 
 
 And then came the ordeal of the stiff circle before dinner, 
 and the introductions and the attempts at conversation j but 
 all that was an assistance to Mr. Verncy. He was in his 
 element when called upon to exert himself conversationally, 
 and the sight of numbers awoke his spirit of criticism, and 
 so his self-appreciation was restored. Whenever he could be 
 satirical he felt himself superior, and then the ordinary laws 
 which govern, or ought to govern, the common herd, became 
 a matter of less importance to him ; he could afford to over- 
 look them. By the time dinner was on the table, ladies 
 glanced at him timidly and admiringly, and gentlemen listened 
 to him as a man whose opinions were worth having, and Mr. 
 Verney was satisfied, and at ease. 
 
 'Was not that a ring at the bell?' asked Mrs. Cameron 
 of the butler, just as the second course was placed on the 
 table. Mr. Verney, who was seated near her, turned round 
 as though he had been shot. The butler left the room to 
 inquire. 
 
 'We are expecting Myra,' said Mrs. Cameron in explana- 
 tion to the gentleman at her right hand. ' Mr. Verney is 
 as anxious about her as any of us ; she is such a favourite 
 of his.' 
 
 Captain Stevens, who was a distant relation, laughed, and 
 made some commonplace remark about its not being permitted 
 to fall in love with two young ladies at once. 
 
 ' I am afraid it is an offence rather frequently committed,' 
 exclaimed Colonel Verney, joining in the conversation. ' I 
 have heard of three cases of jilting this season.' 
 
 ' If the first culprit could have been hung, it would have 
 been a warning to the rest,' said Edmund Cameron, from the 
 opposite side of the table. ' One dreadful example every 
 season would save an infinity of trouble.' 
 
 ' I hope you would not make an example of both sexes,' 
 observed Mrs. Verney, ' for jilting, you know, is considered by 
 some young ladies quite their privilege.' 
 
 Y
 
 333 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 There was a general exclamation of disavowal of the doc- 
 trine from all the ladies present, and Godfrey, thrusting him- 
 self into the conversation, and taking their part for the sake 
 of contradiction, undertook to prove from his own knowledge 
 that in one or two instances, generally known, the fault had 
 rested with the gentleman. Rosamond's taste went against 
 the topic, and she tried to stop him ; but whenever Godfrey 
 was in the vein for anecdotes, it would have been as easy 
 to do this as to arrest the current of a river. Story fol- 
 lowed story, whilst, one by one, the attention of nearly every 
 person at table was attracted, and Godfrey had, what of 
 all things he most coveted — the command of the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 ' It was not Myra,' said Mrs. Cameron, leaning forward 
 and addressing Mr. Verney in an undertone. He bowed and 
 smiled, and said he did not expect her so soon ; and then he 
 went on quietly discussing a question of political reform with 
 General Mainwaring, his next neighbour, apparently not 
 hearing a syllable which Godfrey was saying, and only 
 pausing to fill his glass whenever the wine came round. 
 He drank but little generally, but that evening was an ex- 
 ception. 
 
 ' I understand your nephew has first-rate powers of con- 
 versation,' remarked Captain Stevens to Mrs. Verney. ' It 
 is a pity he does not give more people the benefit of them.' 
 
 ' He has no morbid desire for social distinction,' replied 
 Mrs. Verney. ' It is a mind sufficient for itself, requiring no 
 support, and therefore not always ready to exert itself. But 
 he can be drawn out by those who understand him • ' and 
 acting upon her own suggestions, Mrs. Verney dexterously 
 insinuated herself into the political conversation, and com- 
 pelled her nephew to give her his attention and his opinion. 
 
 But she failed in persuading him to display himself. He 
 answered her, but it was with only that amount of interest 
 which politeness required, and he shrank back into what 
 Mrs. Verney called his shell, and, with a smile, she bantes 
 ingly told him that he was so nervous and so pre-engrossecj 
 she would wait till after the next day to gain his attention.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 33$ 
 
 The ladies left the dinner-table. Mrs. Yerney persuaded 
 Mrs. Cameron to go and rest in her boudoir. Rosamond 
 also withdrew. Coffee was brought in, the ordinary circle 
 was formed, the ordinary little nothings were said, and the 
 spirit of ennui was stealing over the party. Juliet looked at 
 the time-piece. 
 
 ' Five minutes to the half hour ! Myra ought to be here. 
 Hark ! ' 
 
 The carriage was distinctly heard, the wheels crashing over 
 the gravel. Juliet and Annette rushed down the stairs. 
 
 ' How pleasant it is to see such sisterly affection !' mur- 
 mured Mrs. Verney. ' Elise, my love, I wish you would just 
 go and prepare Mrs. Cameron for dear Myra's arrival. Mrs. 
 Cameron is so sadly nervous,' she continued, addressing the 
 party generally, < and she has been painfully excited by 
 Myra's delay. But it is all over now. I felt sure myself 
 that nothing could occur to mar the general happiness on 
 an occasion so auspicious.' 
 
 There was a bustle on the staircase, a murmur of voices ; 
 then Elise Verney came back, saying that Myra was gone 
 to her mother. She was not looking at all well ; the 
 journey had fatigued her a good deal, and they had had a 
 bad crossing. 
 
 Every one was immediately very sorry, but thought it quite 
 natural, and had no doubt she would soon recover - and then 
 each lady who had enjoyed the privilege of crossing the Channel 
 felt anxious to relate her experience, and listened with polite 
 impatience to her neighbour's details, till she could find an 
 occasion to introduce her own. So the stiffness of the party 
 wore off, and Mrs. Verney, perceiving that the conversation 
 had become more general, took the opportunity of stealing out 
 of the room, with a really good-natured wish to know something 
 about Myra. 
 
 She met Annette in the corridor. < Myra is with mamma. 
 We have been sent away. Mrs. Verney, is there anything the 
 matter?' and Annette, who was naturally timid, and really 
 tender-hearted, crept up to Mrs. Verney's side, and looked up 
 anxious! v in her face.
 
 34o A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' The matter, my dear, no. What should be the matter? 
 Poor little Myra is tired. Just go and tell Rosamond that 
 she must come down and make herself agreeable. I will go 
 and speak to your mamma.' 
 
 ' But Myra looked as if she was unhappy,' said Annette, 
 'and mamma exclaimed so when she saw her ; and she is ill, 
 I am sure.' 
 
 ' My dear Annette, do not let your little head be disturbed 
 with fancies. Go and fetch Rosamond, and stay quietly in 
 the drawing-room. Tell Rosamond I shall return in a few 
 minutes. When the gentlemen come up we must have some 
 music' 
 
 ' The gentlemen are coming up now,' exclaimed Annette ; 
 ' I must go and tell Mr. Verney that Myra is come ; he will 
 be so glad.' But Mr. Verney was not there, he was still in 
 the dining-room talking politics, Edmund said, and Annette 
 must not trouble him about Myra ; he would know about her 
 quite as soon as he wished. Annette went back to the draw- 
 ing-room discomfited, and Mrs. Verney, not without a slight 
 feeling of curiosity, knocked at the door of Mrs. Cameron's 
 boudoir. 
 
 ' Come in,' was said in a weak voice, and Mrs. Verney 
 opened the door just as Myra, who had been kneeling by 
 her mother's sofa, started up, endeavouring to appear as if 
 she had been standing. 
 
 ' Charmed, most charmed to see you, love,' said Mrs. 
 Verney, kissing her ; ' you have had a wretched journey, I 
 hear ; a miserable crossing. Let me see how you are look- 
 ing.' She gently laid her hand on Myra's shoulder, and 
 turned her to the light, as she might have done when she 
 was a child of ten years old. 
 
 Myra bore the touch bravely, but her answer was, in spite 
 of herself, chilling. ' They had had rather a rough passage, 
 but it was nothing like that of the previous day.' 
 
 'And you have been surprised, excited, your nerves are shaken 
 — you were not prepared for this sudden and most interesting 
 event ? Dear Mrs, Cameron, she will do well to retire to rest
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 341 
 
 immediately, after having eaten something. Don't you think 
 so?' 
 
 ' I wish to go into the drawing-room,' said Myra de- 
 cidedly ; ' mamma, if you don't object, I will go and dress 
 at once.' 
 
 'It is a strange fancy, my dear,' was the reply ; ' very 
 unlike yourself.' And Mrs. Cameron appealed to Mrs. 
 Verncy, ' She does not look like herself, does she ? I was 
 quite startled when I saw her at first.' 
 
 ' Feverish,' said Mrs. Verney, with a smile ; ' feverish from 
 excitement, but it will wear off. Are you quite certain, my 
 love, that you will do wisely in attempting to see your friends 
 to-night ? You will have such a very trying day to-morrow ; 
 and you must be up early, so must we all.' 
 
 ' And I want Conyers to try on your dress,' said Mrs. 
 Cameron ; ' I should like to see it on myself. Indeed, it 
 is so late, Myra, I think you will do much better not to 
 think of appearing in the drawing-room ; no one will expect 
 you.' 
 
 ' You have seen Rosamond, of course,' said Mrs. Verney. 
 
 ' She has seen no one but myself and the two children, I 
 believe,' observed Mrs. Cameron. ' We were just having a 
 little talk about the marriage when you came in, my dear 
 Mrs. Verney. I was telling her that she must not put on a 
 sad face, when her sister is going to be so happy.' 
 
 ' Dear child ! She was always so sensitive,' murmured Mrs. 
 Verney. ' But you will see Rosamond looking so bright, my 
 love ; and Charles is supremely happy.' 
 
 Alas ! for Myra, and that unfortunate impossibility of 
 concealing her feelings which entirely prevented her being 
 a heroine. Her face expressed a mixture of impatience 
 and misery, which the effort to subdue only served to in- 
 tensify. 
 
 ' Mamma, I think I should like to go to my own room ' 
 was all the answer she could make. 
 
 ' Do so, my dear. Make yourself comfortable, and tell 
 Conyers what you would like to have — a little tea, I suppose ;
 
 342 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 and perhaps some chicken, or a cutlet : order just what you 
 fancy.' 
 
 ' I can't eat,' said Myra, ' my head aches ; and I have not 
 seen Rosamond, or ' — her voice was scarcely audible, as she 
 added — ! Mr. Verney.' 
 
 Mrs. Verney laughed. ' Oh ! is that it ? The old fancy. 
 Well ! I must say you are constant ; and you need not be at 
 all jealous ; he is devoted to you still.' 
 
 ' He has been looking forward to seeing you all day.' said 
 Mrs. Cameron. 'Suppose,' and she turned to Mrs. Verney — 
 ' Would it be troubling you very much to ask him to come 
 and see Myra here ? The gentlemen must be out of the 
 dining-room by this time.' 
 
 ' O mamma ! no, not here ; ' Myra paused, conscious of the 
 strangeness of her words ; then added, ' It will tire you ; and 
 indeed, if I may, I should like to go into the drawing-room.' 
 
 ' But with a headache, my dear, and having had nothing to 
 eat ? ' 
 
 ' Poor child ! she won't be satisfied till she has had him 
 all to herself,' said Mrs. Verney. ' I daresay she has some- 
 thing very important to say to him. They were always famed 
 for having secrets, and I think under the circumstances we 
 may trust them.' 
 
 Mrs. Cameron received the suggestion quite literally. ' I 
 don't understand,' she said. ' Mr. Verney can come here very 
 well, and then Myra can have something to eat and go to bed • 
 that seems to me the most sensible notion.' 
 
 ' I have not seen papa, either,' persisted Myra. 
 
 ' Homesick for every one, I perceive,' said Mrs. Verney. 
 'What do you say to indulging her, my dear Mrs. Cameron, 
 and allowing her to go into the drawing-room just as she is? 
 The party arc all relations or intimate friends, and they will 
 quite understand that she has just come off a journey.' 
 
 ' As you will,' said Mrs. Cameron languidly. ' I don't 
 think I can appear again to-night myself; I am quite ex- 
 hausted. I should like to see Rosamond before she goes to 
 bed ; and Myra, my dear, when you go up stairs remember 
 you must put on your dress and let Conyers see that it tits.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 343 
 
 I think I may depend upon her, don't you ? ' she added, 
 speaking to Mrs. Vcrncy. 
 
 ' Without doubt ; or Rosamond will look at it, I am sure. 
 Now, Myra, love, just go and take off your bonnet, and make 
 your hair smooth, and then I will introduce you, as you wish 
 it so much.' 
 
 But Myra had just arrived at the conclusion that she did 
 not wish it at all, that she had made a most foolish blunder, 
 and in her intense dread of drawing upon herself unnecessary 
 remark, had decided, as is so often the case, upon the very 
 line of conduct which would be the most remarkable. All 
 through the long journey she had been endeavouring to plan 
 how she should meet Mr. Verney, and what excuse she could 
 make for seeing him alone ; and finding herself unable to 
 determine a question which could only be settled by the cir- 
 cumstances of the moment, she had worked herself up into a 
 .state of nervous uncertainty, which was the sure precursor of 
 a blunder. She had already drawn upon herself her mother's 
 attention, and Mrs. Verney's, and now she was going to 
 do what of all things she most dreaded, face a large party, 
 who would look at and watch her ; and perhaps, after all, 
 she might fail in finding the moment which she desired for 
 begging to speak with Mr. Verney alone. As she passed the 
 drawing-room, on her way to her own room, she stopped ; 
 the door was half open, and she looked in. Mr. Verney was 
 there, standing with his back to her ; drinking coffee, and 
 talking to some ladies. Myra forgot she could be seen, and 
 stood riveted to the spot, her heart beating violently. Per- 
 haps he would turn and see her ; if so, he would surely come 
 and speak to her ; and once she was nearly certain that he 
 did see her. But he walked to the other end of the room im- 
 mediately afterwards, and Myra could then only follow her own 
 much regretted idea, and prepare herself for the drawing-room 
 
 ordeal. 
 
 Happily, other persons had considered her comfort more 
 than she was inclined to do herself, and when she went tff 
 her room she found Annette there, and a very comfortable 
 repast provided ; the bridesmaid's white tarlatan dress, with
 
 344 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 its pale blue ribbons, was spread upon the bed, and Conyers 
 was waiting to put it on, as soon as she was ready. Myra, 
 thankful for any delay, sent Annette to beg Mrs. Verney not 
 to wait for her, and poured herself out a cup of tea, but she 
 could eat nothing. 
 
 ' If you don't eat, Miss Myra, perhaps you would try on 
 your dress at once,' said Conyers, ' and then I could set about 
 altering it, if there should be anything to be altered.' 
 
 ' Oh no, Conyers ! not to-night ; I can't. Take it away, 
 please.' 
 
 ' But, indeed, Miss Myra, it will only take five minutes.' 
 
 < Impossible ! It must be by and by. Annette, I shall be 
 ready directly.' Myra pushed away her cup, turned to the 
 glass to arrange her hair and her dress, and make herself look, 
 as Annette said, presentable, and hurried downstairs. 
 
 ' Shall we wait for Mrs. Verney ? ' said Annette, as they 
 paused before the drawing-room door. Myra made no 
 answer ; her nervousness had become desperation, and they 
 went in. 
 
 The room, which was not large, was well filled and well 
 lighted ; and as Myra entered, a brilliant duet on the harp 
 and piano was just beginning ; and the general attention 
 being thus pre-occupied, she contrived to reach the middle 
 of the apartment without notice. Then a cousin perceived 
 her, and came up and spoke ; then an aunt, and a friend, 
 her father, and Rosamond, and, in a few minutes, she was 
 the centre of a little circle, all making eager and loud in- 
 quiries, under the protection of the clanging chords of Doni- 
 zetti's opera. But where was Mr. Verney ? Still not seeing 
 her, but talking in a distant corner to General Mainwaring, 
 who, being an old man with grey hair, and a Member of 
 Parliament besides, had been looked upon by Myra with 
 awe from her infancy. To interrupt such a conversation 
 would have been an unpardonable disrespect. The music 
 ceased. Myra hoped Mr. Verney would move, and he did 
 move ; he turned round, saw her, came up to her, shook 
 hands heartily, said a few kind words — so kind indeed, 
 that Myra felt herself the basest of hypocrites — and then
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 345 
 
 went back again to his politics. What else could she have 
 expected ? Her anxiety to speak to him alone became all 
 but unsupportablc. One or two of the party who were to 
 have beds in the village were preparing to take their leave. 
 Mrs. Verney came up and begged her to go to bed also. 
 Rosamond urged the same request, promising to come to 
 her room for a few minutes' chat. Her father made a re- 
 mark upon her pale face, and told her she was foolish in 
 remaining ; and Myra felt tired, so that she could scarcely 
 stand ; and bewildered and feverish, so that she could with 
 difficulty bring herself to make a rational answer to anything 
 that was said ; and still lingered, and persisted in lingering, 
 until Mr. Cameron sternly ordered her to go at once, and the 
 die was cast. 
 
 Myra wished a general ' good night,' and, walking up to 
 Mr. Verney, interrupting him in the middle of a sentence, 
 said, in a very low trembling voice, ' I have something to say 
 to you. Will you come with me to the schoolroom ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, if you desire it ; ' but the expression of his face 
 at that moment Myra never forgot. 
 
 ' A private tete-a-tete] said Mrs. Verney, as they passed her 
 in the corridor. ' That is not at all proper ; but I suppose 
 you are forestalling the privilege of brother and sister. Good 
 night, dear Myra ; we meet at ten to-morrow. Charles, the 
 Colonel wishes to go ; are we to wait and take you home, or 
 send the carriage back ? ' 
 
 ' Send it back, if you will ; I like to be independent.' 
 
 'And to have a few last words with Rosamond. Well, it 
 is very natural ! Good night, once more, dear ; ' and Mrs. 
 Verney kissed Myra. ' How burningly hot your forehead is ! 
 Pray go to bed soon, or you will be ill again.'
 
 346 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD, 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 The schoolroom was but dimly illuminated by the one candle 
 which Myra placed upon the centre table. Mr. Verney threw 
 himself into a chair, his face turned partially away from the 
 light. He was the first to speak. 
 
 ' Well, dear child, it is late ; you must say your say 
 quickly.' 
 
 'As quickly as I can; but, oh, Mr. Verney! I think you 
 know ! ' And Myra drew near, and raised her eyes to him 
 timidly. 
 
 ' Know ! I know a good many things. You must really 
 speak plainly, if I am to understand you.' 
 
 ' You will be angry ; it may not be my business, but it 
 has made me so very unhappy. I saw Miss Stuart and Mrs. 
 Tracy at St. Wolfgang.' 
 
 He turned round and looked her full in the face. ' Really ! 
 and I suppose they inquired after me ? ' 
 
 No answer. Myra was too much amazed to speak. 
 
 ' They are old acquaintances of mine/ he continued. ' Per- 
 haps they talked about me ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, they talked ; they said — but Mrs. Tracy did not wish 
 me to repeat it all, only I must.' 
 
 ' My dear little girl, this is too silly. What do you mean 
 by keeping me here, after ten o'clock at night, to tell me what 
 some lady would not like me to hear. You have some sense- 
 less conscience-crotchet in your head, Myra ; but you are 
 growing too old to indulge such folly.' 
 
 ' It is not a conscience-crotchet,' exclaimed Myra, recover- 
 ing her self-possession, as her pride was roused by Mr. Verney's 
 tone ; 'it is truth and right.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! '
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 347 
 
 That 'indeed' was generally too much for Myra's self- 
 confidence, there was such absolute superiority in it. Yet 
 she continued, boldly : ' Mr. Verney, if you were engaged to 
 Miss Stuart, you had no right to engage yourself at the same 
 time to Rosamond.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you have heard that folly, have you ? Dear child, 
 I quite agree with you. If I am engaged to Miss Stuart, I 
 cannot at the same time be engaged to your sister Rosa- 
 mond.' 
 
 'But Miss Stuart considered you were engaged to her.' 
 
 ' What a young lady considers is one thing ; what is 
 actually the fact, another. My dear Myra, take my advice, 
 and go to bed, and don't trouble yourself any more with 
 matters which don't concern you. Rosamond and I quite 
 understand each other, and any interference with us will 
 only produce mischief.' 
 
 ' But Mrs. Tracy said the same — at least, that it had 
 been an engagement; she did not say it was actually so 
 now.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Tracy knows the state of things too well to make any 
 such absurd assertion.' 
 
 ' There is no absurdity in it, Mr. Verney,' said Myra very 
 gravely. ' I don't know how things are at this moment, but 
 
 I do know that you were engaged, and as a proof ' She 
 
 paused, and laid upon the table the little case containing the 
 ring and the lock of hair. 
 
 As he took them up she saw his colour change. ' I have 
 a message for you,' continued Myra. ' Miss Stuart bids you 
 take your choice between the two. You asked for the hair ; 
 if you keep it she feels that you will return to her. You gave 
 her the ring ; if you accept it back again, she w ill know that 
 you are gone from her for ever.' 
 
 ' Rosamond will thank you for this,' was the answer. 
 
 ' I know it may seem treacherous, but they were given 
 me. O Mr. Verney ! I have been very wretched.' 
 
 ' Because you have interfered with affairs which are quite 
 out of your province,' continued Mr. Verney sternly. ' I did
 
 343 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 s 
 
 give this ring ; I did ask for this hair. I was like other men. 
 Rosamond knows it; she is satisfied. You need ask no 
 more.' 
 
 ' And Miss Stuart is miserable,' said Myra. 
 
 Mr. Verney leaned his head upon his hand, as he said, in 
 an undertone, ' And I have been miserable also.' 
 
 ' I may return the hair?' asked Myra. 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 'And I may tell my father all that I know,' she con- 
 tinued. 
 
 ' Tell your father ! ' Mr. Verney started from his seat. 
 ' Myra, do you think I am a man likely to endure this mon- 
 strous, this unheard-of interference. Tell your father ! Yes, 
 tell him at your peril.' 
 
 ' I must tell him,' was Myra's firm answer. 
 
 Mr. Verney's tone changed. 'Even so — tell him if you 
 will,' he said. ' Go to him, let him know how you have for- 
 gotten your duty to your sister — how you have striven to mar 
 her happiness — hear what he will say.' 
 
 'I must tell him all that Mrs. Tracy told me,' persisted 
 Myra. 
 
 ' All ! What all ! Mrs. Tracy knows there is no en^a^e- 
 ment now.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Tracy spoke of other things besides the engagement,' 
 said Myra hesitatingly. 
 
 ' Mark me, Myra, if you have been listening to lies, and 
 are now going to repeat them, God knows how bitterly you 
 will repent it. Let me hear what Mrs. Tracy said.' 
 
 ' She told me things which I must repeat to my father ' 
 began Myra ; but Mr. Verney interrupted her. 
 
 •Then Mrs. Tracy is a false hypocrite, and if Rosamond is 
 rendered miserable for life, it will be her doing and yours 
 Myra. And we trusted you ; yes, we trusted you more than 
 any other human being ! ' 
 
 ' And I was wrong in consenting to be so trusted,' said 
 Myra. 'That also shall I say to papa.' 
 
 Mr. Verney rose and walked up and down the room.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 349 
 
 ' I have been very unhappy,' continued Myra, ' and I can- 
 not bear the feeling of having done wrong any longer. And, 
 Mr. Verney, if there is no truth in what Mrs. Tracy said, 
 you will very easily explain everything to papa.' 
 
 ' Myra, listen to me. You are bound in honour to tell me 
 the accusations made against me, before you repeat them to 
 any one. I require you to do so.' 
 
 Mr. Verney placed himself before her, and looked at her 
 with an expression of determination, before which she actually 
 quailed. 
 
 ' I think I am bound to do so,' she replied. ' I wished to 
 speak to you now for that reason. I will try and remember it 
 all.' 
 
 'Yes, all; let there be no reserve, no prevarication.' 
 
 The colour mounted to Myra's cheek, and she looked up at 
 him indignantly. ' Mr. Verney, you have no right to use that 
 word. 1 do not know how to prevaricate. Mrs. Tracy told 
 me that you were greatly in debt, that even if you were to return 
 to India your income would not be sufficient to set you free, and 
 that your private fortune was all gone, because it was mixed 
 up with Mr. Stuart's affairs, which within the last two months 
 had become so involved there was no hope of retrieving them. 
 And she said, also, that if it had not been for these money 
 difficulties you would have married Miss Stuart. This is 
 what I must tell papa,' she added ; ' he must know it to- 
 night.' 
 
 Mr. Verney had listened with a countenance absolutely 
 impassive ; when Myra concluded, a sharp, satirical, light 
 laugh seemed to ring through the apartment, as he said, ' Is 
 that all ? ' 
 
 'Yes, all.' 
 
 ' Thank you, I suppose I may be allowed to spare you the 
 trouble of communicating these important facts, or exagge- 
 rations, or falsehoods, or with whatever name they may be 
 dignified, to your father ? ' 
 
 Myra gazed at him in utter perplexity. 
 
 ' You have no wish, I imagine, to place yourself in an un- 
 fitting or improper position,' he continued.
 
 350 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' I wish to tell papa what Mrs. Tracy told me,' said Myra, 
 'and I intend to do so.' 
 
 1 Precisely so ; that is, you wish Mr. Cameron to know. If 
 I tell him, you will be equally satisfied.' 
 
 Myra hesitated. ' I must tell him that I was wrong in 
 sending the letters,' she said. 
 
 ' We will leave your little confessions for the present. They 
 are not exactly to the point. Time presses. I desire you 
 simply to understand that I relieve you from your mission.' 
 
 'And you will say it all ? ' said Myra. ' But Mrs. Tracy, I 
 am sure, wished me to say it myself.' 
 
 ' We will forget Mrs. Tracy. The question lies between 
 you and me.' 
 
 ' O Mr. Verney ! you would not deceive me,' said Myra, 
 and she looked at him with an expression of such childdike, 
 earnest truth, that the cold-hearted, cynical man of the world 
 was touched by it, and he answered with a sincerity which 
 could not be doubted — 
 
 ' Myra, on the word of a man of honour, I will not marry 
 your sister until your father knows everything that is to be 
 known about me.' 
 
 'And I may speak to him myself after you have spoken to 
 him ? ' said Myra. 
 
 He turned from her abruptly. 
 
 ' I don't doubt — I can't. O Mr. Verney ! forgive me ! ' 
 
 There was a silence of some seconds. Mr. Verney kept 
 his face partially averted. Then he answered in a voice from 
 which all bitterness was gone — -' Say to him what you will 
 to-morrow. Now, good night.' 
 
 Myra burst into tears. 
 
 ' Poor child ! ' he took her hand tenderly, and she allowed 
 it to rest in his, whilst scarcely articulate through her sobs 
 came the words : ' If you will only say you forgive me ! ' 
 
 ' God bless you ! I am not worthy to forgive you.' The 
 last sentence was uttered as if spoken to himself, and before 
 Myra could add another word he had left her. 
 
 Myra listened to his footsteps along the corridor and thought
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 35! 
 
 he went back to the drawing-room, and after vainly trying to 
 hide the traces of tears on her face she went up to her own 
 room. Conyers was waiting for her with the bridesmaid's 
 dress. 
 
 ' O Miss Myra ! how could you be so forgetful and stay so 
 late ? Your mamma has rung for me twice, to know if the 
 dress fits.' 
 
 ' I am so tired,' was Myra's most true answer. ' Conyers. 
 you must leave it.' 
 
 Conyers merely replied by assisting Myra to unfasten the 
 dress she wore, and to put on the other. 
 
 'Miss Cameron wished to come in and see it on, Mi s 
 Myra; I believe she promised your mamma she would. It 
 looks very nice, doesn't it now?' Conyers moved the glass 
 so that Myra might look at herself. 
 
 It was a startling contrast, that bridal attire and the pale 
 face of distress. Myra glanced at herself for an instant, and 
 then sat down with a look of such utter wretchedness that 
 Conyers, interpreting it as fatigue, looked quite alarmed. 
 
 ' Shall I go and call Miss Cameron ? ' she asked, when 
 Myra seemed a little recovered. 
 
 ' Yes, if you will. Tell her to come quickly ; ' and when 
 Conyers was gone Myra walked up and down the room with 
 her hands clasped together, repeating a few words of prayer, 
 which, though wandering and unconnected, soothed her with 
 the consciousness of not being left to bear her burden alone. 
 
 Cheerful, bright, good-natured, looking as if it had been 
 morning instead of night, Rosamond came. Myra scarcely 
 knew what she said or did j she only felt that every tone of 
 her sister's voice went through her as if it had been the thrust 
 of a dagger. 
 
 ' You are tired, poor darling,' said Rosamond, giving a 
 hasty glance of inspection. ' The dress does very well. Go 
 to bed.' 
 
 ' Is every one else gone ? Mr. Verney ? ' 
 
 ' Not yet, I think. Shall I take him your love ? ' and she 
 laughed.
 
 352 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Myra sank down upon the nearest chair. 
 
 1 Oh, child, to rumple your dress in that way ! Take it off, 
 Conyers, and put her into bed. Good night.' 
 
 Myra just managed to say ' good night,' and that was all. 
 Happily, perhaps, for herself, she was by this time so utterly 
 worn out that she could only leave herself in Conyers' hands 
 to be undressed. 
 
 ' Don't call her too early in the morning, Conyers,' was 
 Rosamond's last good-natured speech. ' She won't be wanted 
 till it is time to go to church.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 353 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 'EIGHT o'clock, Miss Myra. Indeed you must be quick.' 
 
 Myra started from a heavy yet disturbed sleep, and sat up 
 in bed, scarcely conscious where she was. 
 
 ' Your sisters are very nearly ready, and the bridesmaids 
 are all to have their breakfast together in the schoolroom ; 
 and my mistress hopes you will be able to go down and attend 
 to them, Miss Myra ; so please make haste. Can I help 
 you ? ' 
 
 'Thank you, Conyers, no. I don't want help ; but is papa 
 dressed ? ' 
 
 • I can't say, miss, not yet though, I fancy.' 
 
 ' But can I see him ? Was he very late last night ? Do 
 you think I can see him ? ' 
 
 'Indeed, Miss Myra, if you would only dress yourself you 
 could settle all that afterwards. Your mamma is so fidgety 
 about the schoolroom breakfast.' 
 
 ' If you will leave me, Conyers, I will be as quick as I can. 
 Juliet must begin without me. Pray go.' 
 
 There was an intense irritability in Myra's tone. Conyers 
 departed. 
 
 Was it then Rosamond's wedding morning ? Were there 
 no difficulties — no obstacles ? Had Mr. Verney really satis- 
 fied her father ? And had Myra only dreamt of some terrible 
 discovery ? She listened to the sounds in the house : all was 
 stir, excitement, preparation. Juliet's voice was heard on the 
 stairs — loud and merry. She wanted Conyers to alter her 
 sash ; the bridesmaids did not like the way their sashes had 
 been made up, and must have them put on differently. Then 
 came Annette with rather a whining voice, complaining that 
 she should never be ready iri time ; then a cousin, who stood 
 in Rosamond's doorway, called ' Conyers ' in the authoritative 
 
 Z
 
 354 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 tone which belongs to the chief confidante of the chief person- 
 age on an important occasion ; and again Conyers, doubtless 
 actuated by some secret misgiving, knocked at Myra's door, to 
 inquire how long it would be before she was ready — and Myra 
 started up and began to dress. 
 
 She always dressed slowly : her mind was apt to wander 
 to subjects which interested her ; and this morning she was 
 awkward and nervous, and everything went wrong. Again and 
 again messages were sent to hurry her, and then the nervous- 
 ness increased; and she longed, oh, so earnestly ! to have a 
 quiet time for her prayers ; and when she knelt down she 
 could not collect her thoughts or express what she wanted to 
 say ; and just as she had begun to be a little composed another 
 knock made her start up, and she had to answer some trivial 
 question, which irritated her, and made her feel quite wicked. 
 It was very trying ; but more trying than all was a sense of 
 unreality, which made her several times pause as if something 
 in her mind was wrong ; as if in some way she had been under 
 a great delusion, and had not yet awakened from it. 
 
 But she was dressed at last, and went down to breakfast. 
 A merry party was assembled. Juliet was pouring out coffee, 
 and Annette tea. Henrietta and Elise Verney, with the other 
 bridesmaids, making in all eight, were assembled. They were 
 talking eagerly when Myra came in. 
 
 'Look,' said Juliet, holding up a ring to her, 'look what 
 was found on the mantelpiece this morning. There is care- 
 fulness. 
 
 Myra turned quite white, but answered gently, ' The ring is 
 not mine.' 
 
 ' Not yours ! What will you say next ? You know Mr. 
 Verney gave it you last night, and the case is on your dressing- 
 table at this moment. Won't I tell him what a value you put 
 upon his gifts ! I wish he had offered it to me.' 
 
 ' Please give me the ring, Juliet,' replied Myra ; ' and will 
 you let me have some coffee ? ' 
 
 ' Do give her the ring, Juliet,' said Henrietta Verney, who 
 was sitting near her. ' She does not look well enough to bear 
 being teased this morning.'
 
 A GLIMPSE OF TUB WORLD. 355 
 
 ' But she says it is not hers,' said Juliet. ' Then it must be 
 Mr. Verney's. and I shall give it back to him.' 
 
 ' Oh no, Juliet ! indeed you must not. Let me have it,' 
 exclaimed Myra. ' I know about it, only it is not mine.' 
 
 'Then there is a mystery,' exclaimed Juliet, looking round 
 triumphantly, 'and I was right. How I will torment Mr. 
 Verney ! I could not imagine what you and he had to say to 
 each other such a long time last night.' 
 
 The remark drew the general attention upon Myra, who sat 
 drinking her coffee, and trying to look unconscious and in- 
 different, whilst the trembling of her hand and the paleness of 
 her lips plainly betrayed her agitation. 
 
 Glances passed around. Henrietta Verney whispered to a 
 servant to bring a little sal-volatile, but the whisper reached 
 Myra's ears, and had a most strengthening effect. She looked 
 up and smiled, and said she was much obliged, but she was 
 quite well. The journey of the day before had been fatiguing, 
 but she should be quite herself after breakfast ; and then the 
 remarks ceased apparently, but a certain feeling of curiosity 
 and suspicion had been awakened, which was not lessened by 
 the tone in which Myra asked whether any one had seen her 
 father that morning. 
 
 ' I see him now,' exclaimed Annette, as she turned to the 
 window. ' He is walking across the lawn with the Archdeacon. 
 They are going to the church, I am sure, to be sure that every- 
 thing is right.' 
 
 Myra pushed aside her coffee-cup and hurried to the door. 
 
 'Myra, Myra. where are you going?' exclaimed Juliet. 
 ' There are a thousand things we want to say and arrange. 
 You must not go.' 
 
 ' I must speak to papa,' said Myra. She hurried out of the 
 room, and Annette watched her rushing across the lawn. 
 
 'Something is the matter,' observed Juliet oracularly. Every 
 one else seemed to think the same, and a party gathered round 
 the window. 
 
 ' In her white dress and without a bonnet ! So like Myra 
 it is,' murmured Annette. ' I do believe she will go out into 
 the hi"h road.'
 
 356 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' The Archdeacon will think her mad,' said Juliet. 
 
 ' She has not caught up with them, though,' exclaimed a 
 young cousin. 'Just look, she is coming back.' 
 
 ' I don't believe papa is going to the church,' said Juliet. 
 ' He has turned down towards the Rectory. Can't you see 
 him crossing the bridge ? ' 
 
 Myra returned almost immediately, and said quietly, ' Dr. 
 Kingsbury is not so well this morning, and has asked to see 
 papa. He will be back again directly.' 
 
 ' Oh ! then you did catch up with him,' exclaimed Juliet. 
 'What did the Archdeacon think of you ? He must have been 
 very much astonished.' 
 
 ' I did not speak to the Archdeacon,' replied Myra, and her 
 voice grew husky as she added — ' They don't think Dr. Kings- 
 bury will live through the day.' 
 
 A general silence fell upon the party. 
 
 At that instant the door was thrown open rather widely, and 
 Rosamond, in her bridal dress of white silk, with an orange- 
 blossom wreath and lace veil, entered the room. A murmur 
 of admiration passed from mouth to mouth. Rosamond's 
 figure was exquisitely graceful. Her delicate complexion was 
 tinged by excitement, her blue eyes, usually rather hard and 
 cold, were softened into an expression which was almost tender 
 in its sweetness, whilst her small mouth was brightened with 
 a smile of the most perfect amiability. No man could have 
 looked at her that morning without believing that he who 
 could win her for his wife must have a prospect of perfect 
 happiness. The more cynical of her own sex might indeed 
 have traced an absence of perfect simplicity in her movements, 
 and a tone of satisfied vanity in the gentle greeting which she 
 gave her friends ; but it was surely not more than might be 
 considered natural under the circumstances. What failing is 
 so inherent in a woman's nature as vanity ? It is the last 
 fault which, except in aggravated cases, the world feels called 
 upon to condemn. It is the first which any one earnestly 
 yearning to serve God with a perfect heart will labour to 
 uproot. ;T 
 
 ' Mamma told me she had promised you I should come
 
 A GLIMPSE OP TUP WORLD. 357 
 
 and show myself; ' and Rosamond advanced into the centre 
 of the room. ' Myra, love, how are you this morning ? You 
 don't look as if you had slept an hour.' 
 
 Myra looked at her for an instant in silent admiration, 
 and, kissing her, whispered — ' O Rosamond ! are you 
 happy ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, dear child, quite happy — quite. Do you doubt ? ' 
 and Rosamond laughed. 
 
 Myra said not another word, but turned to go away. 
 
 ' The carriages will be here almost directly, and the brides- 
 maids are to go first, Myra,' exclaimed Juliet, following 
 her. 
 
 ' I must wait for papa,' said Myra. She paused in the 
 doorway. 
 
 ' He may stay with Dr. Kingsbury till the last moment,' 
 observed Juliet. 
 
 'Ah, poor Dr. Kingsbury ! I am so sorry. It is dreadfully 
 unfortunate,' murmured Rosamond. ' I should so have liked 
 him to perform the ceremony.' 
 
 ' Please, Myra, don't keep us waiting,' persisted Juliet. 
 * Where are you going now ? ' 
 
 ' To mamma's room ; I have not seen her this morning.' :' 
 
 ' But Convers is with her, and she will be worried if she is 
 interrupted. Do stay here, and let us keep an eye upon 
 you.' 
 
 ' Please not, Juliet. I — I don't feel very well.' No one 
 thought of asking what was the matter, and Myra shut herself 
 up in her own room. 
 
 Those next minutes of waiting, how endless, how intolerable 
 they appeared ! One or two carriages drew up, and as each 
 one came near Myra expected the summons. Several times 
 she fancied she heard her father's voice. Several times she 
 believed that she was called herself. Then came the sug- 
 gestion not to worry herself any more — to forget Mrs. Tracy, 
 to trust Mr. Verney, to believe that it was all right. Then all 
 kinds of absurd impossible wishes entered her head, — that she 
 could run down to the Rectory — see her father — see the dear 
 old Rector — tell all she had to tell there. Oh ! why had she
 
 358 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 delayed ? It must have been cowardice. If she had not so 
 dreaded an interview with her father, surely she would have 
 sought it more. And if all should not be right ! now, at the 
 very last moment ! Her heart turned sick with fear, and just 
 at that moment the call rang through the corridor, ' The 
 carriages are ready for the bridesmaids. No time to be 
 lost.' 
 
 Juliet rushed into Myra's room. Conyers also was at 
 hand. 
 
 'Your mamma has sent me, Miss Myra, that she may be 
 quite sure your dress is right.' 
 
 ' I must see papa,' was all Myra could say. 
 
 ' Papa ! ' interposed Juliet. ' Nonsense, Myra, it is im- 
 possible.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Miss Myra, it won't do to wait. Can I tell him 
 anything for you ? : asked Conyers. 
 
 Another impatient call for the bridesmaids, and almost at 
 the same instant some one was heard to say, ' The carriage is 
 to take Mr. Cameron up at the Rectory.' 
 
 Myra turned to her sister with sudden dignity of manner. 
 ' Go, Juliet, I will follow directly ; ' and Juliet, rather awed 
 and repelled, though she did not know why, ran downstairs. 
 
 Myra leaned back in the carriage, and spoke not a word 
 till they reached the church. 
 
 The bridesmaids were to wait in the schoolroom, which 
 was close adjoining. There the little procession was to be 
 formed, and the school-children were already in attendance, 
 prepared to strew flowers in the bride's path. Several gentle- 
 men were standing about, watching for the carriage which was 
 to come by the Rectory road. Inquiries were made for Mr. 
 Verney, but the Stormont party had not yet arrived. 
 
 The Archdeacon drove up, and there was a feeling of 
 impatience and disappointment. He went into the vestry, 
 and Godfrey Cameron followed him. 
 
 Still no carriage from the Rectory ; but presently came a 
 great rumble of wheels, and the Stormont carriage and four 
 stopped before the west porch. The school-children crowded 
 round so that no one could exactly see who got out, but it was
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 359 
 
 to be supposed that Mr. Verney was one of the number. 
 Myra pressed to the doorway, and even went a few steps into 
 the road. As the difficulty of approaching her father increased, 
 the misgivings, the fears, the reproaches of her possibly over- 
 scrupulous conscience awoke to agony. 
 
 ' They are coming — yes, coming. Now then,' Juliet pulled 
 Myra back, and the bridal carriage drew up. 
 
 Godfrey came out of the vestry and went into the school- 
 room. ' The Archdeacon and Mr. Bathurst are quite ready ; 
 form yourselves properly — the Stormont people are in the 
 church.' 
 
 Myra deliberately left her place, and to the consternation 
 of every one went up to her father as he got out of the carriage, 
 and laid her hand on his arm. 'Papa, I must speak with 
 you.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron's face was like a thunder-cloud. ' Speak, 
 child ! Now ? Folly ! ' 
 
 ' Papa,' — she drew him aside, and her voice trembled, so 
 that she was scarcely intelligible — ' Have you seen Mr. 
 Verney ? Is it all right ? ' 
 
 ' Seen him ? He is here. Of course all is right. Go, 
 child, go ; don't think you are to arrange things.' 
 
 Myra shrank away crushed ; but she joined the proces- 
 sion into the church. The building Avas crowded. All the 
 village people were there, the farmers, and many of the neigh- 
 bouring gentry, who were to be present at the breakfast after- 
 wards. 
 
 Rosamond, leaning on her father's arm, walked composedly 
 up the aisle, the eight bridesmaids following. Mr. Cameron 
 glanced round for Mr. Verney, so did Godfrey, Edmund, the 
 Archdeacon ; so also did Colonel Verney and the Stormont 
 guests. Where was he ? Some one whispered, ' He must 
 have forgotten the ring, or the license ; ' and the murmur 
 was handed round, but still people looked surprised. 
 
 Mr. Cameron went up to Colonel Verney. ' Is he coming ? 
 What is the matter?' 
 
 ' Coming ? he must be here. Who came with him ?' 
 
 No one. The Hall party had believed he was to accom-
 
 360 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 pany Colonel Verney. Colonel Verney had understood that 
 Mr. Verney was gone to the Hall. 
 
 The buzz in the church became audible. One or two 
 persons left their places and went out into the churchyard 
 to look. Rosamond was led to a seat, still outwardly retain- 
 ing perfect self-possession. Myra clasped her hands tightly 
 together, and neither trembled nor felt bewildered, for the 
 hour for courage was come. 
 
 Mr. Cameron, with his head erect, and insensible to the gazing 
 crowd, walked down the aisle, and in a loud authoritative 
 tone ordered that Colonel Verney's carriage should drive back 
 instantly to Stormont. ' Mr. Verney had mistaken the hour.' 
 
 The coachman mounted the coach-box, and gathered up 
 the reins, and was about to drive off, when a boy was seen 
 running at full speed down the lane from the Hall. 
 
 1 A message, sir,' said the Stormont footman, touching his 
 hat. ' Shall we wait for it ? ' 
 
 'Yes, wait.' Mr. Cameron walked forward a few steps. 
 
 The footman brought back a letter directed to Myra. 
 
 ' The young fellow says, sir, that he met Mr. Verney 
 about an hour and a half ago near the railway station, and 
 that he gave him this note, and told him to take it to the 
 Hall.' 
 
 ' An hour and a half ago ! ' exclaimed Mr. Cameron. 
 
 ' Yes, sir ; the boy say he knows it ought to have been 
 given sooner, but he was obliged to go somewhere else 
 first.' 
 
 Mr. Cameron took the note, examined it, almost broke the 
 seal. 
 
 ' Go for Miss Myra — bid her come here.' 
 
 The man entered the church, and went up to Myra. 
 
 All eyes were fixed upon her. Mrs. Verney came up to 
 her, begging to be told what was the matter. So did Colonel 
 Verney. Curiosity became intense. The congregation were 
 leaving their seats and crowding into the aisles. Rosamond 
 remained in her place, but she was deadly pale. Edmund 
 Cameron alone thought for Myra, and, drawing her arm 
 within his, led her down the church. She leaned upon him
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 361 
 
 still as her father put the letter into her hands. The envelope 
 enclosed another letter addressed to Mr. Cameron. The lines 
 addressed to herself were few. 
 
 ' You will give this to vour father. I have entered into no 
 explanations; but after the doubts expressed in your conver- 
 sation last night, and which, I imagine, will be shared by all 
 your family, it is impossible for me to fulfil my engagement. 
 I leave it to you to comfort Rosamond, if she should require 
 comfort. C. V.' 
 
 Myra gave the note to her brother, and tried to speak, but 
 her voice failed her, and she almost fell to the ground. 
 Edmund lifted her into one of the carriages and went up to 
 Mr. Cameron. 
 
 ' We must take Rosamond home, sir. Shall I fetch her ? ' 
 
 Mr. Cameron's face was livid with rage. He threw Mr. 
 Verney's letter to the ground, and as he clenched his hands, 
 for perhaps the first time in his life an oath escaped him. 
 
 ' Shall I fetch her, sir ? ' repeated Edmund. 
 
 There was no answer ; but Mr. Cameron strode up the 
 aisle, and, without uttering a single word of explanation, led 
 Rosamond from the church, placed her in the carriage by 
 Myra's side, seated himself by her, and in a tone of thunder 
 gave the order to drive to the Hall. 
 
 Then, like the rush of a storm, the congregation poured forth 
 from the church — clergymen, bridesmaids, relations, friends, 
 spectators — in one mingled crowd, and through them all, as 
 they gathered at the entrance, dashed the Stormont carriage 
 and four, with Colonel Verney shouting frantically to the 
 coachman, ' To the Hall ! to the Hall ! ' and Mrs. Verney, 
 even then not forgetting her propriety, endeavouring to calm 
 him by reminding him that it might be there was nothing 
 really amiss.
 
 3b2 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 The whole brunt of that terrible storm for the first few hours 
 fell upon Myra. If she had but told all that she knew public 
 exposure might have been prevented. So it is that in this 
 world the innocent suffer for the deeds of the guilty, and the 
 comparatively small offence on which the public eye is fixed is 
 exaggerated into a crime, whilst the hidden but grievous sin 
 which God will condemn at the last day is overlooked, and 
 even justified. But Myra was brave now. There was no sur- 
 prise or hesitation, and nothing to conceal. She had been 
 led into a difficulty by first consenting to become a party 
 to Rosamond and Mr. Verney's deception, and circumstances 
 had aggravated it till she could find no way of escape. So 
 far she confessed herself in the wrong, and bore with quietness 
 and humility the reproaches which were lavished upon her. 
 Her brother Edmund alone defended her. A straightforward 
 unselfish character instinctively understands the feelings of 
 one which resembles it ; and when Myra, after narrating all 
 that she knew, left her father's study, bowed down by the 
 thought of his anger, it was Edmund who undertook to put 
 her conduct in its true light. Much, indeed, she needed such 
 help. Godfrey lectured her; her mother cried, and asked how 
 she could have kept it all from them ; Juliet tormented her by 
 triumphantly reminding her that she had known from the first 
 there was some mystery; and Rosamond, her pride stung to 
 the quick, turned away when Myra would have kissed her, 
 with the cold words, ' Thank you, I require no pity,' and shut 
 herself up in her room, till she could nerve herself to the due 
 amount of haughty contempt which she believed her position 
 demanded. 
 
 And whilst Myra's fault was thus exaggerated because it 
 had brought a wound to the family vanity, Rosamond was 
 excused, pitied, and caressed, and even Mr. Verney escaped 
 with a less share of indignation than might have been antici-
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 363 
 
 pated. When Edmund endeavoured to exculpate Myra, and 
 spoke of Mr. Vcrney as he deserved, Mr. Cameron sharply 
 replied, 'The man is a scoundrel; I desire never to hear his 
 name again. But your sister, Edmund, is a little fool.' 
 
 And this state of feeling continued, until a visit from 
 Colonel Verney had directed Mr. Cameron's wrath into a 
 more just and natural channel. Thoroughly shocked and 
 distressed, the good-natured Colonel had at first vented a 
 torrent of indignation upon his nephew, and pity upon Rosa- 
 mond ; and having driven away from the Hall, which he de- 
 clared he could never have the face to enter again, he had 
 stated his intention of following the missing bridegroom, 
 and demanding a full explanation of his conduct. But Mrs. 
 Verney, more cautious, and with a more clear comprehension 
 of the true state of the case, quieted this fever of excitement, 
 and the Colonel then was only anxious to go back to Mr. 
 Cameron, and make the apology which he felt the honour of 
 the Verney name demanded. 
 
 A most excellent intention, intrusted, alas ! to most un- 
 fitting hands. The Colonel began his apology, and it was 
 accepted stiffly, with the addition of some very cutting remarks 
 upon the deception which had been practised. He did his 
 best to agree, but being touchy upon the point of the family 
 honour, he did not feel inclined to hear from another what he 
 would have been the first to say himself, and offered a slight 
 excuse. Mr. Cameron was bitter, the Colonel hasty. One 
 retort followed another, and when at length the Colonel sug- 
 gested that it was a pity, since Myra knew all about it, she 
 had not had the good sense to speak, in time to prevent the 
 unhappy exposure, Mr. Cameron turned round and proudly 
 defended his child, and for the first time discovered that, but 
 for her interposition, Rosamond would at that moment have 
 been the wife of an unprincipled beggar. 
 
 The speech was the turning point for Myra, and from that 
 moment she had no more reproaches to fear. But it was also 
 the culminating point for Colonel Verney, and in fiery indigna- 
 tion he strode from the room, vowing, with asseverations which 
 made Mr. Cameron's lip curl with pharisaical satisfaction,
 
 364 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 that he would allow himself to be torn to pieces rather than 
 again demean himself to offer to that man the slightest shadow 
 of an apology. 
 
 It was vain, then, for even Mrs. Verney, who sought an 
 interview immediately afterwards, to attempt to cast oil upon 
 the troubled waters. And, indeed, for her the effort would 
 probably under any circumstances have been useless. There 
 are long seasons during which insincerity and flattery have 
 influence, but they are seasons of prosperity, when the world 
 goes smoothly with us. Mr. Cameron was now in no mood 
 for flattery ; he had exercised his practised powers of cross- 
 examination in discovering from Myra and Rosamond every 
 particular of the secret engagement, and he now plainly taxed 
 Mrs. Verney with having been a party to it at the very time 
 when she was suggesting the marriage to himself as a perfectly 
 new idea. When she hesitated how to reply, he put on his 
 most repelling manner, and suggested that for the future he 
 should prefer for his family the society of persons who were 
 not likely to be the sharers of such secrets. He believed 
 that parents were the best, and the only lawful judges as to 
 what would be for their children's good. No doubt Mrs. 
 Verney had acted with the best intentions. As a gentleman 
 speaking to a lady, he could not suppose otherwise ; but in 
 the present instance, her interference in his family affairs 
 had, he grieved to say, been a signal failure. And with a 
 stiff bow, Mr. Cameron moved to the door, and Mrs. Verney 
 had no alternative but to go. She went to Rosamond's room ; 
 and there another defeat awaited her. She offered pity and 
 sympathy, and Rosamond was coldly indifferent, and needed 
 no pity. Of wounded feeling she possessed very little, of 
 wounded pride a great deal. Mr. Verney, she said, had of 
 course at the last done the only thing which was possible to 
 be done. She wished no excuse to be made for him. A man 
 without principle could not be open to excuses. He had 
 deceived and insulted her, but she left him to the world's con- 
 demnation, and certainly could only feel thankful that she 
 had been saved the life-long disappointment which must have 
 been hers if she had become his wife.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 365 
 
 Mrs. Verney could say nothing in reply, and whenever this 
 was the case, she always escaped as quickly as possible. She 
 was still, however, full of regrets, full of affection. She only 
 trusted that nothing that had occurred would weaken the 
 friendly feeling which had lately been so increased between 
 the two families. To which Rosamond replied, that whatever 
 she might feel herself, she was afraid her father was not likely 
 to forget or overlook the offence that had been offered ; and 
 then she sat silent. Mrs. Verney made a few commonplace 
 remarks, and departed, without even attempting to see Mrs. 
 Cameron, the only person whom she might really have soothed, 
 but whose influence in her own family was so small that it was 
 not worth her while to propitiate her. It was a very bitter 
 disappointment to Mrs. Verney. If she could have retained 
 the outward form of friendship with the Camerons, she might, 
 by repudiating her nephew, have saved herself and her husband 
 from any share in the odium of his conduct. But to quarrel with 
 them, or to be supposed to do so, was at once to be imagined 
 to take part with the man who had so grossly deceived and 
 injured them. The world knows nothing of the inner work- 
 ing of such dissensions. It merely sees that persons are not 
 friends ; it can never tell why or how the unfriendliness has 
 arisen, or to whom the fault is to be attributed. Mrs. Verney 
 knew quite well that the world would talk, and that, if it talked, 
 it would infallibly tell lies ; and she would fain have stopped 
 its mouth by a fact ; the only way, indeed, by which the world 
 can be silenced. She would willingly have pointed to the 
 continued intimacy between the two families as a proof that 
 the Colonel and herself were absolutely innocent ; and very 
 hard, indeed very unjust, it seemed to her, that she could not 
 be allowed to do so. But so it was, and when she sat down 
 to a family dinner that evening (the guests invited for the 
 wedding having all departed), it was with the unpleasant 
 thought that her neighbours were probably, at that moment, 
 speculating how much or how little she and Colonel Vernev 
 had known of Mr. Verney's affairs, and deciding that, of course, 
 they must have been aware of a good deal, as there was no 
 doubt a decided quarrel between them and the Camerons.
 
 366 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 For a woman who lived for the world, who basked in the 
 sunshine of the world's favour, what imputation could be more 
 galling ? 
 
 For the first time in her life Mrs. Verney felt that she had 
 blundered. 
 
 And at the Hall also there was a painful consciousness of 
 the world's curious gaze, and of its unbridled tongue. But 
 things were more simple, more open there. The feelings 
 which were expressed were, in every case except Rosamond's, 
 natural and real, and so there was less strain upon the party. 
 The greater number of the wedding guests went away in the 
 afternoon, but a few near relations remained, and as Rosamond 
 kept to her room, and Myra waited upon her mother, who 
 was too unwell to come downstairs, there was liberty for con- 
 versation and full expression of feeling, and this soothed Mr. 
 Cameron by allowing him to assert his wounded dignity, and 
 to congratulate himself more on what he had been saved 
 from, than on what he had been called upon to bear. 
 
 Such an earthquake as the event of the morning would, it 
 might have seemed, have upset a family for months, and yet 
 on the evening of that same day there was a decided lull in 
 the storm, and as the gentlemen sat together after dinner 
 there was even something like a not unpleasing excitement in 
 going over what they had said, and thought, and feared, and 
 suspected. After all, they were not sufferers. To the general 
 eye, only Rosamond was really to be pitied, and how sharp 
 that corroding pang of wounded pride and vanity really was, 
 she was not likely to betray. 
 
 No one thought of Myra, except to call her a silly child for 
 having trusted to the word of ' such a fellow as Verney.' No 
 one in the least guessed or could have understood the wreck 
 of feeling, the blank dreariness which fell upon her, when, 
 having left her mother nearly asleep, she shut herself up in 
 her own room to collect her thoughts, to remember and examine 
 all that had occurred, to see if possible how she had been led 
 wrong, how she could have done better, and to resolve — oh ! 
 how sorrowful is that first resolve to a young heart ! — that 
 she would for the future never allow herself to be deceived by
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 367 
 
 the cha.m of talent or personal kindness, but that she would 
 suspect and be on her guard, and distrust appearances, and 
 remember the bitter lesson which had taught her that the 
 deeds of the life, and not the words of the month, are the test 
 by which we are to judge our fellow-creatures as well as our- 
 selves. 
 
 And at the very time when Myra made this resolve to stand 
 alone, she had such a yearning for guidance — visible, human 
 guidance ! It is a long time before we feel that prayer and 
 God's help are sufficient for us ; and though Myra prayed, 
 and found comfort in prayer, she still longed intensely for 
 some one to whom she might go, and, as she would herself 
 have expressed it, talk it all over, and ask what she should 
 have done. One person there was to whom now, when one 
 of the real trials of life had come upon her, she felt that 
 she could have ventured, perhaps, to open her heart, but he 
 was far away in spirit, though yet near her in the body, 
 lingering on the borders of that silent land where the troub- 
 ling of the wicked ceases, and the cares of the weary find 
 rest. 
 
 It was in vain to think of talking to Dr. Kingsbury, and 
 yet Myra could not resist the wish to see him once more, with 
 perhaps the secret hope that if he had only rallied sufficiently 
 to admit her to his room, he might say something from which 
 she might find strength and comfort. When the dinner-bell 
 rang, and she knew that every one was engaged, and that 
 Conyers was wailing upon her mother with a cup of coffee, 
 she stole quietly away, leaving word with Juliet where she 
 was to be found, and crossed the garden and the dell to the 
 Rectory. How everything reminded her of Mr. Verney, and 
 that first time when she had seen him, and of the way in which 
 her feeling for him had grown up, and been strengthened by 
 all the quiet strolls, the pleasant conversations, the ready 
 sympathy which had made the last summer so indescribably 
 pleasant to her ! A man without honour, without principle. 
 a deceiver, selfish, cold-hearted, treacherous ! Oh no ! he 
 was not that ; he never could be that. Myra had stumbled 
 upon the terrible fact of human inconsistency, which is the
 
 3 68 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 problem of the wisest through life, and must be so till death ; 
 and it occupied her thoughts till she found herself at the back 
 door of the Rectory, trembling and almost repenting of her 
 visit, as she felt what the meeting with her old friends must 
 be when such a tale was to be discussed, such folly in herself 
 confessed, and such evil in others to be alluded to. 
 
 The kitchen door was gently opened by Betsey. ' Is it 
 you, Miss Myra ? Master has been asking for you so many 
 times.' 
 
 ' Has he indeed ? ' Myra's face brightened. ' And is he 
 better ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! no ; not better really, miss. But he has wonderful 
 strength to last so long. We thought this morning he was 
 going, and so did Mr. Harrison. That was why we sent for 
 Mr. Cameron. Master had something on his mind, he was so 
 bent upon saying to him. I suspect it must have had to do 
 with Mrs. Patty's affairs when he is gone. Very unfortunate 
 it was as it turned out, but we could not help it. And now he 
 has taken some arrowroot, and Faith says she should not be 
 surprised if he was to last out the night. But he will be very 
 glad to see you, Miss Myra. Oh dear ! he has thought a great 
 deal of you to-day.' Betsey dared not express her sympathy 
 more plainly, and Myra, shrinking from the least touch on the 
 wounded spot, answered directly, ' Please, Betsey, go and tell 
 Mrs. Patty I am here, and ask if I may come up for a minute. 
 Tell her I must not be longer because of leaving mamma.' 
 
 'Ah! Poor Mrs. Cameron! How is she?' asked Betsey 
 curiously. 
 
 ' Pretty well, thank you. Please go quickly. I will sit 
 down in the kitchen till you come back.' 
 
 ' Oh no ! Miss Myra; don't do that. Come up with me. 
 I can be certain Mrs. Patty will be inclined to cry her eyes 
 out with pleasure at seeing you. But here's Faith ; she can 
 tell us everything.' 
 
 Faith brought word that ' the Doctor was strangely better 
 for the time, and had insisted upon being placed in his arm- 
 chair by the fire, though it had been all they could do to get 
 him there. He would be quite ready, she was sure, to see 
 Miss Myra. He wanted sadly to hear all about it.'
 
 A GLIMrSE OF THE WORLD. 369 
 
 Again Myra felt as though a dagger had gone through her. 
 It was the foretaste of a pang to be repeated many many times 
 before she could be in the least accustomed to it. She fol- 
 lowed Faith up the stairs, determined to be brave, and endure 
 patiently whatever might be in store for her, for doubtless she 
 in a measure deserved it. 
 
 But the first words of fatherly greeting which awaited her 
 were calming as an opiate. The old Rector turned round his 
 head quite quickly when the door opened, and a smile bright- 
 ened up his withered features : ' My little Myra, this is plea- 
 sant. I thank God that He has sent you. Patty, let her 
 come near to me; and I should like to see her alone.' 
 
 ' Surely, Doctor, dear. Come near the fire, Myra. You 
 like the low seat, and you won't disturb him. He is better 
 just now, and waiting quietly. We are both waiting,' she 
 added in an undertone. 
 
 ' Dear Mrs. Patty, I have wanted to see you so much all 
 day,' said Myra, as she seated herself on the low stool by 
 the Doctor, and turned her face up to look at Mrs. Patty. 
 
 'Ah ! my dear, not half so much as I have wanted to see 
 you.' Mrs. Patty bent down and took Myra's face between 
 her hands, and kissed her. ' I have been sorry for a good 
 many at the Hall to-day, but for none more than you. But 
 tell the Doctor all you like, and if I think you are tiring him, 
 I will come in and send you away.' 
 
 'There is not much to be told that you don't know, sir,' 
 said Myra, addressing the Doctor as Mrs. Patty went into 
 the next room, and closed the door behind her. ' You know 
 that Rosamond is not married, and that Mr. Verney' 
 
 ' Is a villain,' said the old man emphatically. But seeing 
 Myra start, he added, ' It sounds like a hard word, but it was 
 a cruel deed to a young girl.' 
 
 'Very cruel,' said Myra, but she thought not of Rosamond, 
 but of a broken heart in a distant land. 
 
 There was a slight pause. Then Myra added : ' I was not 
 free from blame myself.' 
 
 ' I heard it. Patty was told something about your know- 
 ing more than any one else, but I was sure you must have 
 
 2 A
 
 37o A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 been taken in. Young things like you have much to learn as 
 to the ways of this evil world.' 
 
 ( But I might have learnt ; I might have known,' said 
 Myra. ' It was very wrong to help them to keep the engage- 
 ment concealed, and that was what I did ; but — I trusted Mr. 
 Verney.' 
 
 ' No doubt you did, my dear. All little girls of your age 
 would have been likely to do so. But, Myra' — the old man 
 laid his withered hand upon hers as it rested on his knee, 
 and his voice was tremulous in its earnestness — ' trust God 
 and your own heart. It is the counsel of a dying man.' 
 
 ' My own heart ! oh ! never, never,' exclaimed Myra. 
 
 1 " Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the 
 issues of life." My child, those are God's own words.' 
 
 But I have been deceived,' said Myra, ' and I may be 
 again.' 
 
 ' Keep thy heart with all diligence ; did you do so ? ' He 
 fixed his sunken eyes upon her, and Myra felt the glance thrill 
 through her. 
 
 ' Perhaps I did not,' she said hesitatingly. 
 
 ' God knows if you did not, and how, and why you did not. 
 He will pardon that sin, as He will all sin ; only it must not 
 be repeated.' 
 
 ' I deceived myself,' exclaimed Myra. ' God will not leave 
 me to guide myself again ; will He? Oh ! sir, if He would 
 only spare you.' 
 
 ' God will help you ; do not doubt it. But He may not 
 give you guidance — such as you seek.' 
 
 ' I shall never trust my own judgment,' said Myra. 
 
 4 A safe resolution, for you are young. Yet you must learn 
 to trust it.' 
 
 ' By making blunders,' said Myra, attempting to smile. 
 
 ' Even so. By making blunders, and profiting by them. 
 So it is we are all taught. Only there are some to whom the 
 teaching comes very late,' and the Doctor sighed heavily. 
 
 ' You are tired, sir,' said Myra, looking at him anxiously. 
 
 ' A little. But wait, child ; wait.' He put out his hand 
 to detain her. as she would have left him to summon Mrs.
 
 A GLIMrSE OF THE WORLD. 371 
 
 Patty. ' One word more ; you have to stand alone, my little 
 girl.' 
 
 ' Yes, it seems so. Is it wrong to think it ? ' 
 
 ' Face truth always. Never fear it.' And in his earnest- 
 ness, the Doctor half raised himself in his chair, and leaned 
 forward. ' You are alone ; you want a right judgment. 
 Take the experience of nearly eighty years. It is the balance 
 of character which through God's grace will give you that. 
 Do you understand ? ' 
 
 ' Not quite — I hope I do — I will try. But indeed' — again 
 she would have left him, for his voice was faint, and a change 
 had come over his face. 
 
 Still his detaining hand was lightly laid upon her. ' The 
 balance of character — proportion. No one fault, no one 
 virtue even, allowed to get the upper-hand. It is the heart 
 which leads the judgment astray. O God, do Thou help and 
 tend her.' 
 
 Myra knelt by his chair, and he murmured a few more 
 words of prayer. Then he fell back suddenly. 
 
 Mrs. Patty looked in at the doorway, and Myra beckoned 
 to her. She came and bent over him. 'Doctor, dear.' 
 
 He opened his eyes, and gazed at her, but there was some- 
 thing strange in his look. 
 
 ' The mischief is at the heart,' whispered Mrs. Patty ; ' he 
 has had such an attack before. Ring the bell, my dear.' 
 She gave her orders with an unfaltering voice. 
 
 ' And I made him talk,' said Myra. 
 
 Mrs. Patty folded her hands together, and said quietly, 
 < God's will ; ' and then she stooped down and kissed the old 
 man's forehead tenderly, and spoke his name. 
 
 He knew her quite, and smiled, but he did not answer. 
 Faith answered the bell, and Mr. Harrison was sent for. 
 
 ' Shall you get him into bed ? ' asked Myra. 
 
 ' He is more comfortable where he is. Doctor, dear, is 
 there any pain ? ' 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 'Thank God for that,' said Mrs. Patty.
 
 372 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' Must I go ? ' asked Myra. 
 
 The old Rector just raised his hand, and his lips moved. 
 
 ' She will stay, Doctor, dear. Yes, she will stay. Myra, 
 it is what we must all come to.' 
 
 Mrs. Patty was rigid in her self-control, but Myra's tears 
 flowed fast. She continued kneeling at the Rector's feet ? 
 chafing his cold hands, but no warmth came to them. 
 
 Faith re-entered the room, and Betsey followed. They 
 brought warm water and flannels, hoping to restore the cir- 
 culation, but life was ebbing away fast. The old man spoke 
 one word, which only Faith caught. 
 
 ' He wants prayers, ma'am. Shall the curate come ? ' 
 
 ' The commendatory prayer, Patty,' was repeated again 
 more distinctly. 
 
 ' Doctor, dear, yes ; ' and Mrs. Patty opened the Prayer- 
 Book. She paused for one instant ; her self-restraint entirely 
 gave way, and she put the book into Myra's hands, and 
 buried her face against the sofa. 
 
 And then, in the stillness of that death-chamber, the sweet 
 young voice, through broken and faint, rose up to Heaven, 
 commending to Almighty God the soul of him who had so 
 long passed the term of man's appointed time on earth. It 
 ceased, and in the pause which followed, the old Rector's 
 voice was heard : 
 
 1 Patty, there are many mansions.' 
 
 ' Doctor, dear, yes. There will be one for you.' 
 
 ' One for us both. Little Myra — take care of her. Jesus, 
 Saviour — have mercy.' A sigh, a short struggle, and it was 
 all over.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 373 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 A STILL autumn evening, with a most glorious sunset, steeping 
 the atmosphere in a tint of unearthly reddish and golden 
 brown, like the hues of the fading leaves etherealised ; — the 
 sky in the west a burnished mirror of clear transparent gold, 
 with crimson clouds gathering round it ; the east reflecting 
 back the gorgeous light in masses of rose-coloured vapours, 
 rising high in the heavens. Island mists floating upwards 
 from the valley, and catching the sunset tints as they ascend ; 
 and far away to the south-west, soft scattered clouds hovering 
 over the summit of a steep solitary hill, and descending upon 
 it in forms like tongues of fire. 
 
 Mrs. Patty watched that sunset from the garden of her little 
 cottage, at the end of the lane leading from the Rectory to the 
 Hall. Myra stood by her side. They had both been silent 
 for many minutes. At last Mrs. Patty spoke : 
 
 'The Doctor sees something more beautiful even than that, 
 Myra, but I can't fancy it. Anyhow, he will be glad to think 
 I have it to look at.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Myra. 'It is always the sight that brings one 
 nearest to heaven, is it not ? dear Mrs. Patty. I wish one 
 might never be obliged to think of anything else.' 
 
 'Which means you have something very earthly to talk 
 about,' said Mrs. Patty. ' I knew you had by your face, but I 
 could not bear to lose the sunset.' 
 
 Myra drew a newspaper from under her cloak, and Mrs. 
 Patty exclaimed 'The "Times !" certainly there is nothing 
 more earthly than that.' 
 
 'No,' said Myra gravely ; 'but look ;' she pointed to a para- 
 graph in the marriage advertisements. 
 
 * Read it, my dear,' said Mrs. Patty ; ' I can't find my 
 spectacles.'
 
 374 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ' I would rather you should read it to yourself,' said Myra. 
 Her \ oice faltered, and she turned away. 
 
 Mrs. Patty searched again, brought out the spectacles, and 
 advancing from the porch so as to gain all the advantage 
 possible from the fading light, read half aloud : ' At Vienna, 
 October 20, Charlotte Mary Stuart, only daughter of George 
 Stuart, Esq., of Bombay, to Charles Verney, Esq.' 
 
 'Then he has done the right thing at last ! ' was Mrs. Patty's 
 ' exclamation. ' But poor thing ! what a prospect of wretched- 
 ness for her.' 
 
 ' No wretchedness now, as far as this world is concerned,' 
 said Myra, drawing nearer. 'See, Mrs. Patty;' again she 
 pointed to the column of advertisements : 
 
 'At Vienna, four days after her marriage, Charlotte Mary, 
 the beloved wife of Charles Verney, Esq.' 
 
 The paper dropped from Mrs. Patty's hands. 
 
 ' It was too late to save her,' said Myra. 
 
 ' Even so, too late,' echoed Mrs. Patty. ' God forgive me ! 
 I could almost pray that he might never know another happy 
 moment.' 
 
 ' He will not know it,' replied Myra. ' Mrs. Patty, still I feel 
 that there was once something noble about Mr. Verney.' 
 
 'There might have been, my dear. No doubt there was. 
 He is God's work marred. But that he should have married 
 that poor thing at last ! I don't understand it.' 
 
 ' I think I do,' said Myra. ' It was impulse, and con- 
 science. 1 
 
 ' And a bit of the world too, my dear. He knew better than 
 you know, that when a man marries, he places himself in a 
 new position, and then people talk less about his old one. 
 But with the money-matters all wrong ! It was a desperate 
 step.' 
 
 'And now he is lonely, and poor, and miserable,' said 
 Myra. 
 
 Mrs. Patty looked at her keenly. ' Myra, child, you are not 
 going to waste your pity upon him. The Doctor would not 
 approve of that.' The allusion to the old Rector came out
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 3:5 
 
 without effort. Mrs. Patty always spoke of him as conscious of 
 her actions, if not present with her. 
 
 'Would he not?' said Myra, and she half smiled. ' Dear 
 Mrs. Patty, he spoke more kindly of Mr. Verney than you 
 ever did. But I waste no pity upon him, only I long to know 
 whether, after this great shock, he will take a downward or an 
 upward step.' 
 
 'That depends upon why he married,' said Mrs. Patty. 'If 
 he went to that poor thing boldly, told her what he had done, 
 keeping back nothing, and then made his offer, with an honest 
 purpose of devoting his life to her, the marriage may have 
 been the turning point with him ; and with this sorrow, com- 
 ing so soon, he may be a different man from henceforth.' 
 
 ' He would not tell her everything,' said Myra. ' He could 
 not.' 
 
 'Why could not, child? Would not you have done it in 
 his place ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' said Myra, ' but that would have been because I can 
 never stop half way. Something always urges me on, if a 
 thing is to be done, so that I cannot rest till it is done — fully, 
 I mean. I don't think Mr. Verney has that feeling.' 
 
 ' He wants moral courage,' said Mrs. Patty. 
 
 ' So Mrs. Tracy said cf him,' replied Myra. 
 
 Mrs. Patty looked very grave. ' Don't forget him in your 
 prayers, Myra ; for he will need them now more than ever.' 
 
 'And you don't think he will improve, and grow better?' 
 said Myra. 
 
 The words jarred upon her as she uttered them. How Mr. 
 Verney would have smiled with contempt some few months 
 before, if he had heard his little friend, Myra, speak of the 
 possibility of his improving ! 
 
 ' I would rather not talk about him, Myra — or say what I 
 think. The prophecy of an old woman must always sound 
 harsh and hopeless to a young thing. I should like better to 
 know how all is going on at the Hall with you.' 
 
 'Well, I think,' said Myra, 'very well; only Rosamond is 
 so altered. I cannot make her happy or satisfied, though I 
 try to do so. And now she says such bitter things about
 
 376 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 people ! She never used to do it. I always strive to remem- 
 ber, though, what she has had to make her bitter ; but I am 
 not much with her, for I have so many things to do.' 
 
 'Ah ! child, you have found your place now,' said Mrs. 
 Patty, smiling. ' Papa's head, and mamma's right hand, and 
 Rosamond's friend, and Juliet and Annette's example.' 
 
 Myra's face flushed, as she exclaimed: 'O Mrs. Patty! 
 no ; not half that. But I wonder sometimes, when so many 
 things go cross-wise, that I don't trouble myself about them 
 more. I am contented at my heart always now, in spite of 
 everything. Can that be because, as you say, I have found 
 my place ? ' 
 
 ' Possibly ; or, may be, you have opened your eyes to see 
 that you were already standing in it, only you were not aware 
 of it. As the Doctor used often to say : "There is a place for 
 every one in this world, who chooses to give up self and live 
 for others."' 
 
 'They are all very kind to me at home,' said Myra thought- 
 fully. ' Papa has quite forgotten now all the trouble at the 
 wedding, and mamma tells me it always does her good 
 when I go to her. I think that is partly owing to her not hav- 
 ing Mrs. Verney with her as she used to have, and so being 
 obliged to depend upon me more. There is a pleasure in 
 feeling that one can stand alone, and be of use. I hope that 
 is not conceited.' 
 
 ' I don't suppose truth ever made any one conceited,' replied 
 Mrs. Patty. 'You were more likely to be so, Myra, when you 
 set your heart upon Mr. Verney.' 
 
 ' Not my heart,' replied Myra. ' It was more fancy and 
 imagination than anything else which made me think of him 
 as I did.' 
 
 ' That drew you together ; but he was so clever, my dear, 
 and you are clever too. I don't know how it is though, Myra, 
 as I go on in the world, I think less and less of people who 
 are merely clever. I remember what the Doctor used to say 
 when I told him how every one admired his learning : " Patty, 
 the little baby who has just waked up in Paradise, is far wiser 
 than the cleverest man now living." It comforts me now to
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. $77 
 
 think of it, because I feel that when it shall please God to 
 bring the Doctor and me together again, I shall be better able 
 to understand and help him.' 
 
 'I don't want to lose you yet,' said Myra, as she took her 
 old friend's hand tenderly in her own. 
 
 ' Perhaps not just yet, my dear. But it can't be very long. 
 I am quite contented, though, to go or to stay. It is only 
 waiting just a little while ; and meantime nothing troubles me. 
 When the day's care comes, it is already half over, and I am 
 so much nearer the end — the blessed end.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Myra. 'It must be pleasant to be old to feel 
 that.' 
 
 ' And pleasant too to be young, my dear ; to be strong to 
 fight the battle, and win the crown.' 
 
 'But,' said Myra, 'one fears to be deceived, to go wrong — 
 one cannot help fearing.' 
 
 ' I don't fear. No one would fear who knew you, Myra, as 
 I do. I once heard the Doctor say, he never trembled for 
 those who leaned upon God, and then walked on boldly watch- 
 ing their own hearts, whatever blunders they might make. 
 When he was afraid, it was for such as were always leaning 
 upon human help. And that was why, Myra, it vexed me so 
 to see you led by Mr. Verney I felt sure that as long as you 
 looked up to him, you would never know what it was to find 
 your whole strength in God.' 
 
 ' I don't know it now as I ought,' said Myra. 
 
 'And you won't know it, till you can look back, and see how 
 He has forced you to turn from earthly help, and so compelled 
 you to rest on Him. A strange wonderful road it is that we 
 all have to travel, Myra.' 
 
 ' I could wish for nothing better than that God would bring 
 me as quietly and safely to the end, as He is bringing you,' 
 said Myra. 
 
 ' And He will bring you there, my dear. Your way, perhaps, 
 will not be as straight, and as pleasant as mine, because God 
 has given you more to be anxious about, and you have a busy 
 brain that won't be still, and take the world calmly. But step 
 by step, hour by hour, day by day, never doubt, Myra, He will
 
 378 A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 lead you. "His rod and His staff will comfort you." For 
 surely, child, there is a prophecy for you, as well as a thanks- 
 giving for me : 
 
 ' " Thy loving kindness and mercy shall follow me all the 
 days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for 
 ever." ' 
 
 There was a moment's silence. Then Myra said : ' Is it 
 only for me ? Have you nothing to hope for Mr. Verney ?' 
 
 And Mrs. Patty evasively replied : ' I know too little about 
 him for hope or for fear. But the glory is over, and the sun has 
 set.' And so they both went into the house. 
 
 We will take a glimpse of some in whom we may be inte- 
 rested, ten years after this period. And first of Mr. Verney. 
 Mrs. Patty's doubtful words were not severe, they were pro- 
 phetic. There are many men whose moral tone is kept up 
 simply by their position in society. Mr. Verney was one of 
 these. When he lost fortune and gained a stained name, he 
 sank inevitably. 
 
 The cowardice which had made him a prey to circumstances 
 through the whole of his previous career accompanied him 
 still. The catastrophe of the eventful wedding morning was 
 the result of no premeditation. He had left Myra prepared 
 to face his duty, and make his confession to Mr. Cameron ; 
 yet he procrastinated. Afraid to speak, he resolved to write, 
 and went home for that purpose. But when he began to write, 
 the sense of his humiliating position became overwhelming. 
 Unable to justify himself, he felt himself, after many efforts, 
 compelled to give up the attempt at extenuation, and after a 
 night of utter misery, he found himself at half-past seven in 
 the morning still unresolved what to do. In desperation he at 
 length set out for the Hall, intending to leave the letter for 
 Myra, and then escape the shame which awaited him by taking 
 the railway train to London. But time was his master. The 
 train started at half-past eight, and by going to the Hall, he 
 ran the risk of losing it. The note was given to the first 
 person who presented himself, and events were left to take 
 their course.
 
 A GLIMPSE OP THE WORLD. 379 
 
 And in like manner with all which followed. His marriage 
 was, as Myra suspected, a matter of impulse. He was degraded 
 in his own eyes, and he rushed to the only person who he knew 
 would cling to him in spite of his degradation. He had made 
 many miserable, and now that he was miserable himself, and 
 had nothing more to lose, he could afford to make a sacrifice ; 
 not, indeed, the noble sacrifice of confession, that was the last 
 thing Mr. Verncv could think of ; — he deceived even to the 
 end ; but he flattered himself that in keeping back all that had 
 occurred, he was saving his wife from pain. He married, 
 knowing that she was dying, but knowing also that by the act 
 he was making her some atonement for a grievous wrong. For 
 three days he dreamt, if not of happiness, yet of contentment ; 
 on the fourth his wife died from the effect of a shock produced 
 by a letter unexpectedly revealing all that he had concealed 
 from her. 
 
 And from that moment Mr. Verney began the downward 
 course in which there is no need to follow him. 
 
 The habits from which his refined taste would have revolted 
 when he was in prosperity, were resorted to as the only means 
 of bringing forgetfulness of his folly in adversity ; and ten years 
 from the time when he first became acquainted with Myra, the 
 only remark made about him by his Indian friends was, ' That 
 unhappy fellow Verney ! what a wreck he is ! ' 
 
 And what of Rosamond ? We may think of her as the wife 
 of a man of rank and fortune, devoted to the world, but begin- 
 ning to feel that the world is no longer devoted to her. 
 
 The brilliancy of very early youth past, and ennui rapidly 
 stealing over her ; no heart interests, no true affections — weary 
 in her secret soul, and seeking to escape from weariness by 
 a round of petty dissipation. Disappointed in her children 
 because the faults which she had never checked in herself were 
 exhibited in them, and clashed with her own inclinations ; 
 irritable with her husband because she had no principle of 
 duty to make her obedient and forbearing with him. Friend- 
 less in the midst of friends ; self still her idol, and self daily 
 becoming more exacting, more tyrannous in its demands.
 
 3So A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Hundreds there are like her : 
 
 ' Non ragionam di lor, ma guarda e passa.' 
 
 And one last glimpse must be taken of Myra, married also ; 
 the wife of the eldest son of the same General Mainwaring who 
 had talked politics with Mr. Verney, on the eventful night 
 preceding the wedding-day. Yet the same Myra still — substan- 
 tially the same. In no way altered so that any one could say — 
 ' Is it possible to believe that Miss Cameron and Mrs. Main- 
 waring are the same persons ? ' A good wife and a good 
 mother, for had she not been a good daughter and a good 
 sister? A person of independent thought and clear judgment, 
 exercising a wide and deep influence for good ; for had she not 
 early learnt to watch and govern her own mind, knowing that 
 each individual soul must give an account for itself, and can 
 in nowise devolve its responsibility upon another ? Impulsive 
 still, quick in her movements, and never having learnt to be 
 graceful, yet infinitely attractive from the sweet loving sympathy, 
 the kindliness which welled forth as from a never-failing fountain 
 — the fountain of an unselfish heart. Quite simple, because 
 living with one single motive — to do God service. So pure- 
 minded, reverent, and earnest, that her presence was a check 
 upon every word that verged upon evil. Yet remarkable, but 
 in one respect — that those who knew her best could never seize 
 upon any one striking characteristic by which to describe her 
 until they fell back upon the cant phrase of the day, and said 
 'Myra Mainwaring is so true.' 
 
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 London: LONGMANS, GKEEN, & CO.
 
 General Lists of Works. 
 
 THE FINE ARTS AND ILLUSTRATED EDITIONS. 
 
 Dresser's Arts and Art Manufactures of Japan. Square crown Svo. 31*. Gd. 
 Eastlake's Household Taste in Furniture, &c. Square crown 8vo. 14*. 
 Jameson's Sacred and Legendary Art. 6 vols, square 8vo. 
 Legends of the Madonna. 1 vol. 21s. 
 
 — — — Monastic Orders 1 vol. 21*. 
 
 — — — Saints and Martyrs. 2 vols. 31*. Gd. 
 
 — — — Saviour. Completed by Lady Eastlake. 2 vols. 42*. 
 Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Home, illustrated by Scharf. Fcp. 4to. 10*. Gd. 
 The same, with Ivry and the Armada, illustrated by Weguelin. Crown 8vo. 3*. Gd. 
 Moore's Lalla Rookh, illustrated by Tenniel. Square crown 8vo. 10*. Gd. 
 
 New Testament (The) illustrated with Woodcuts after Paintings by the Early 
 
 Masters. 4to. 21*. cloth, or 42*. morocco. 
 Perry on Greek and Roman Sculpture. With 280 Illustrations engraved on 
 
 Wood. Square crown 8vo. 31*. Gd. 
 
 CHEMISTRY, ENGINEERING, & GENERAL SCIENCE. 
 
 Arnott's Elements of Physics or Natural Philosophy. Crown 8vo. 12*. 6d. 
 Bourne's Catechism of the Steam Engine. Crown 8vo. 7*. Gd. 
 
 — Examples of Steam, Air, and Gas Engines. 4to. TO*. 
 
 — Handbook of the Steam Engine. Fcp. 8vo. 9s. 
 
 — Recent Improvements in the Steam Engine. Fcp. Svo. 6*. 
 
 — Treatise on the Steam Engine. 4to. 42*. 
 
 Buckton's Our Dwellings', Healthy and Unhealthy. Crown 8vo. 3*. Gd. 
 
 Crookes's Select Methods in Chemical Analysis. Svo. 24*. 
 
 Culley's Handbook of Practical Telegraphy. 8vo. 16*. 
 
 Fairbairn's Useful Information for Engineers. 3 vols, crown 8vo. 31*. Gd. 
 
 — Mills and Millwork. 1 vol. 8vo. 25*. 
 Ganot's Elementary Treatise on Phvsics, by Atkinson. Large crown 8vo. 15*. 
 
 — Natural Philosophy, by Atkinson. Crown 8vo. 7*. Gd. 
 Grove's Correlation of Physical Forces. Svo. 15*. 
 Haughton's Six Lectures on Physical Geography. 8vo. 15*. 
 Heer's Primasval World of Switzerland. 2 vols. 8vo. 12*. 
 Helmholtz on the Sensations of Tone. Royal Svo. 28*. 
 
 Helmholtz's Lectures on Scientific Subjects. 2 vols, crown 8vo. 7*. Gd. each. 
 Hudson and Gosse's The Rotifera or ' Wheel Animalcules.' With 30 Coloured 
 
 Plates. 6 parts. 4to. 10*. Gd. each. 
 Hullah's Lectures on the History of Modern Music. 8vo. 8*. Gd. 
 
 — Transition Period of Musical History. 8vo. 10*. Gd. 
 Jackson's Aid to Engineering Solution. Royal Svo. 21*. 
 
 Jago's Inorganic Chemistry, Theoretical and Practical. Fcp. 8vo. 2*. 
 Kerl's Metallurgy, adapted by Crookes and Rbhrig. 3 vols. 8vo. £4. 19*. 
 Kolbe's Short Text-Book of Inorganic Chemistry. Crown 8vo. 7*. Gd. 
 Lloyd's Treatise on Magnetism. 8vo. 10*. Gd. 
 
 Macalister's Zoology and Morphology of Vertebrate Animals. Svo. 10*. Gd. 
 Macfarren's Lectures on Harmonv. 8vo. 1 2*. 
 
 London: LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
 
 General Lists of Works. 
 
 Miller's Elements of Chemistry, Theoretical and Practical. 3 vols. 8vo. Part I. 
 Chemical Physics, 16.$. Part II. Inorganic Chemistry, 24*. Part III. Organic 
 Chemistry, price 31*. Gd. 
 
 Mitchell's Manual of Practical Assaying. 8vo. 31*. Gd. 
 
 Northcott's Lathes and Turning. 8vo. 18*. 
 
 Owen's Comparative Anatomy and Physiology of the Vertebrate Animals. 
 
 3 vols. 8vo. 73*. Gd. 
 Payen's Industrial Chemistry. Edited by B. H. Paul, Ph.D. 8vo. 42*. 
 Piesse's Art of Perfumery. Square crown 8vo. 21*. 
 
 Reynolds's Experimental Chemistry. Fcp. 8vo. Part I. 1*. Gd. Part II. 2s. Gd. 
 
 Part III. 3*. 6d. 
 Schellen's Spectrum Analysis. 8vo. 31*. Gd. 
 Sennett's Treatise on the Marine Steam Engine. Svo. 21*. 
 Smith's Air and Rain. 8vo. 24*. 
 
 Stoney's The Theory of the Stresses on Girders, &c. Royal 8vo. 36*. 
 Swinton's Electric Lighting : Its Principles and Practice. Crown 8vo. 5*. 
 Tilden's Practical Chemistry. Fcp. 8vo. 1*. Gd. 
 Tyndall's Faraday as a Discoverer. Crown 8vo. 3*. Gd. 
 
 — Floating Matter of the Air. Crown 8vo. 7*. 6d. 
 
 — Fragments of Science. 2 vols, post 8vo. 16*. 
 
 — Heat a Mode of Motion. Crown Svo. 12*. 
 
 — Lectures on Light delivered in America. Crown 8vo. 5*. 
 
 — Lessons on Electricity. Crown 8vo. 2*. Gd. 
 
 — Notes on Electrical Phenomena. Crown Svo. 1*. sewed, 1*. Gd. cloth. 
 
 — Notes of Lectures on Light. Crown Svo. 1*. sewed, 1*. 6d. cloth. 
 
 — Sound, with Frontispiece and 203 Woodcuts. Crown 8vo. 10*. Gd. 
 Watts's Dictionary of Chemistry. 9 vols, medium 8vo. '£15. 2*. 6<2. 
 Wilson's Manual of Health-Science. Crown Svo. 2*. Gd. 
 
 THEOLOGICAL AND RELIGIOUS WORKS. 
 
 Arnold's (Rev. Dr. Thomas) Sermons. 6 vols, crown 8vo. 5*. each. 
 Boultbee's Commentary on the 39 Articles. Crown Svo. 6*. 
 Browne's (Bishop) Exposition of the 39 Articles. Svo. 16*. 
 Colenso on the Pentateuch and Book of Joshua. Crown Svo. 6*. 
 Conder's Handbook of the Bible. Post Svo. 7*. Gd. 
 Conybeare & Howson's Life and Letters of St. Paul :— 
 
 Library Edition, with Maps, Plates, and Woodcuts. 2 vols, square crown 
 
 8vo. 21*. 
 Student's Edition, revised and condensed, with 46 Illustrations and Maps. 
 1 vol. crown Svo. 7*. Gd. 
 Cox's (Homersham) The First Century of Christianity. 8vo. 12*. 
 Davidson's Introduction to the Study of the New Testament. 2 vols. 8vo. 30*. 
 Edersheim's Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah. 2 vols. 8vo. 42*. 
 
 — Prophecy and History in relation to the Messiah. Svo. 12*. 
 
 Ellicott's (Bishop) Commentary on St. Paul's Epistles. Svo. Galatians, 8*. Gd. 
 Ephesians, 8*. Gd. Pastoral Epistles, 10*. Gd. Philippians, Colossians and 
 Philemon, 10*. Gd. Thessaloniaus, 7*. Gd. 
 
 Lectures on the Life of our Lord. Svo. 12*. 
 Ewald's Antiquities of Israel, translated by Solly. 8vo. 12*. Gd. 
 
 — History of Israel, translated by Carpenter & Smith. Vols. 1-7, 8vo. £5. 
 
 London: LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO.
 
 General Lists of Works. 
 
 Hobart's Medical Language of St. Luke. 8vo. 16s. 
 Hopkins's Christ the Consoler. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 Jukes's New Man and the Eternal Life. Crown 8vo. 6*. 
 
 — Second Death and the Restitution of all Things. Crown 8vo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 — Types of Genesis. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 — The Mystery of the Kingdom. Crown 8vo. 3j. Gd. 
 
 Lenormant's New Translation of the Book of Genesis. Translated into English. 
 
 8vo. 10s. (id. 
 Lyra Germanica : Hymns translated by Miss Winkworth. Fcp. 8vo. 5s. 
 Macdonald's (G.) Unspoken Sermons. Second Series. Crown 8vo. 7*. Gd. 
 Manning's Temporal Mission of the noly Ghost. Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. 
 Martineau's Endeavours after the Christian Life. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 Hymns of Praise and Prayer. Crown 8vo. is. Gd. 32mo. 1*. 6<J. 
 
 — Sermons, Hours of Thought on Sacred Things. 2 vols. 7s. Gd. each. 
 
 Mousell's Spiritual Songs for Sundays and Holidays. Fcp. 8vo. 5$. 18mo. 2s. 
 Miiller's (Max) Origin and Growth of Religion. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 — — Science of Religion. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 Newman's Apologia pro Vita Sua. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 — The Idea of a University Defined and Illustrated. Crown 8vo. 7*. 
 
 — Historical Sketches. 3 vols, crown 8vo. Gs. each. 
 
 — Discussions and Arguments on Various Subjects. Crown 8vo. Gs. 
 
 — An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine. Crown 8vo. Gs. 
 
 — Certain Difficulties Felt by Anglicans in Catholic Teaching Con- 
 
 sidered. Vol. 1, crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. Vol. 2, crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. 
 
 — The Via Media of the Anglican Church, Illustrated in Lectures, &c. 
 
 2 vols, crown 8vo. 6*. each 
 
 — Essays, Critical and Historical. 2 vols, crown Svo. 12s. 
 
 — Essays on Biblical and on Ecclesiastical Miracles. Crown 8vo. Gs. 
 
 — An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent. 7s. Gd. 
 Overton's Life in the English Church (1660-1714). 8vo. 14s. 
 Rogers's Eclipse of Faith. Fcp. Svo. 5s. 
 
 — Defence of the Eclipse of Faith. Fcp. 8vo. 3s. Gd. 
 Sewell's (Miss) Night Lessons from Scripture. 32mo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 — — Passing Thoughts on Religion. Fop. Svo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 — — Preparation for the Holy Communion. 32mo. 3s. 
 Smith's Voyage and Shipwreck of St. Paul. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 Supernatural Religion. Complete Edition. 3 vols. Svo. 36*. 
 
 Taylor's (Jeremy) Entire Works. With Life by Bishop Heber. Edited by the 
 
 Rev. C. P. Eden. 10 vols. 8vo. £5. 5s. 
 Tulloch's Movements of Religious Thought in Britain during the Nineteenth 
 
 Century. Crown Svo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 TRAVELS, ADVENTURES, &c. 
 
 Aldridge's Ranch Notes in Kansas, Colorada, &c. Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 Alpine Club (The) Map of Switzerland. In Four Sheets. 42s. 
 Baker's Eight Years in Ceylon. Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 
 — Rifle and Hound in Ceylon. Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 Ball's Alpine Guide. 3 vols, post 8vo. with Maps and Hlustrations : — I. Western 
 
 Alps. 6s. Gd. II. Central Alps, 7s. Gd. III. Eastern Alps, 10s. Gd. 
 Ball on Alpine Travelling, and on the Geology of the Alps, Is. 
 
 London: LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
 
 10 
 
 General Lists of Works. 
 
 Bent's The Cyclades, or Life among the Insular Greeks. Crown Svo. 12s. Gd. 
 Brassey's Sunshine and Storm in the East. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 — Voyage in the Yacht ' Sunbeam.' Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. School Edition, 
 
 fcp. 8vo. 2s. Popular Edition, 4to. Gd. 
 
 — In the Trades, the Tropics, and the ' Koaring Forties.' Edition de 
 
 Luxe, 8vo. £3. 13s. Gd. Library Edition, 8vo.21s. 
 Crawford's Across the Pampas and the Andes. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 Dent's Above the Snow Line. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 Fronde's Oceana ; or, England and her Colonies. 8vo. 18s. 
 Hassall's San Berno Climatically considered. Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 Howitt's Visits to Bemarkable Places. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 Maritime Alps (The) and their Seaboard. By the Author of ' Vera.' 8vo. 21s. 
 Three in Norway. By Two of Them. Crown 8vo. Illustrations, 6s. 
 
 WORKS OF FICTION. 
 
 Beaconsfield's (The Earl of) Novels and Tales. Hughenden Edition, with 2 
 Portraits on Steel and 11 Vignettes on 'Wood. 11 vols, crown 8vo. £2. 2s. 
 Cheap Edition, 1 1 vols. fcp. 8vo. Is. each, sewed ; Is. Gd. each, cloth. 
 Black Poodle (The) and other Tales. By the Author of ' Vice Versa.' Cr. 8vo. 6s. 
 Brabourne's (Lord) Friends and Foes from Fairyland. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 Harte (Bret) On the Frontier. Three Stories. 16mo. Is. 
 
 — — By Shore and Sedge. Three Stories. 16mo. Is. 
 In the Olden Time. By the Author of ' Mademoiselle Mori.' Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 Melville's (Whyte) Novels. Cheap Edition. 8 vols. fcp. Svo. Is. each, sewed ; 
 
 Is. Gd. each, cloth. 
 The Modern Novelist's Library. Crown 8vo. price 2s. each, boards, or 2s. Gd. 
 each, cloth :— 
 By the Earl of Beaconsfield, E.G. By Anthony Trollope. 
 
 Lothair. 
 
 Sybil. 
 
 Coningsby. 
 
 Tancred. 
 
 Venetia. 
 
 Henrietta Temple. 
 
 Contariui Fleming. 
 
 Alroy, Ixion, &c. 
 
 The Young Duke, &c. 
 
 Vivian Grey. 
 
 Endymion. 
 
 By Bret Harte. 
 
 In the Carquinez Woods. 
 
 By Mrs. Oliphant. 
 
 In Trust, the Story of a 
 and her Lover. 
 
 By James Payn. 
 
 Lady 
 
 Barchester Towers. 
 
 The Warden. 
 By Major Whyte Melville. 
 
 Digby Grand. 
 
 General Bounce. 
 
 Kate Coventry. 
 
 The Gladiators. 
 
 Good for Nothing. 
 
 Holmby House. 
 
 The Interpreter. 
 
 The Queen's Maries. 
 By Various Writers 
 
 The Atelier du Lys. 
 
 Atherstone Priory. 
 
 The Burgomaster's Family. 
 
 Elsa and her Vulture. 
 
 Mademoiselle Mori. 
 
 The Six Sisters of the Valleys. 
 
 Unawares. 
 Gd. 
 Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 Thicker than Water. 
 Oliphant's (Mrs.) Madam. Crown 8vo. 3s. 
 Payn's (James) The Luck of the Darrells. 
 Reader's Fairy Prince Follow-my-Lead. Crown Svo. 5s. 
 
 Sewell's (Miss) Stories and Tales. Cabinet Edition. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 
 gilt edges, price 3s. Gd. each :- 
 
 Amv Herbert. Cleve Hall. 
 The Earl's Daughter. 
 Experience of Life. 
 Gertrude. Ivors. 
 
 A Glimpse of the World. 
 Katharine Ashton. 
 Laneton Parsonage. 
 Margaret Percival. Ursula. 
 
 London : LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
 
 General Lists of Works. 11 
 
 Stevenson's (R. L.) The Dynamiter. Fop. Svo. U. sewed ; Is. Gd. cloth. 
 
 — — Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Fcp. 8vo. Is. 
 
 sewed ; Is. Gd. cloth. 
 Sturgis' My Friend and I. Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 
 POETRY AND THE DRAMA. 
 
 Bailey's Festus, a Poem. Crown 8vo. 12.?. 6<2. 
 
 Bowdler's Family Shakespeare. Medium 8vo. lis. 6 vols. fcp. 8vo. 21*. 
 Dante's Divine Comedy, translated by .Ta-i es Innes Minchin. Crown 8vo. 15s. 
 Goethe's Faust, translated by Birds. Large crown 8vo. 12*. Gd. 
 
 — — translated by Webb. 8vo. 12s. Gd. 
 
 — — edited by Selss. Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 
 Ingelow's Poems. Vols. 1 and 2, fcp. 8vo. 12*. Vol. 3 fcp. 8vo. 5s. 
 
 Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, with Ivry and the Armada. Illustrated by 
 
 Weguelin. Crown 8vo. Zs. Gd. gilt edges. 
 The same, Annotated Edition, fcp. 8vo. l.s. sewed, Is.Gd. cloth, 2s. Gd. cloth extra. 
 The same, Popular Edition. Illustrated by Scharf. Fcp. 4to. Gd. swd., 1*. cloth. 
 Macdonald's (G.) A Book of Strife : in the Form of the Diary of an Old Soul: 
 
 Poems. 12mo. Gs, 
 Pennell's (Cholmondeley) 'From Grave to Gay.' A Volume of Selections. 
 
 Fcp. 8vo. Gs. 
 Reader's Voices from Flowerland, a Birthday Book, 2s. Gd. cloth, 3s. Gd. roan. 
 Robinson's The New Arcadia, and other Poems. Crown Svo. Gs. 
 Shakespeare's Hamlet, annotated by George Macdonald, LL.D. 8vo. 12s. 
 Southey's Poetical Works. Medium 8vo. 14s. 
 Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verses. Fcp. 8vo. 5s. 
 Virgil's JEneid. translated by Conington. Crown 8vo. 9s. 
 
 — Poems, translated into English Prose. Crown 8vo. 9s. 
 
 AGRICULTURE, HORSES, DOGS, AND CATTLE. 
 
 Dunster's How to Make the Land Pay. Crown Svo. 5s. 
 
 Fitzwygrams Horses and Stables. 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Horses and Roads. By Free-Lance. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 Lloyd, The Science of Agriculture. 8vo. 12s. 
 
 Loudon's Encyclopaedia of Agriculture. 21s. 
 
 Miles's Horse's Foot, and How to Keep it Sound. Imperial Svo. 12s. Gd. 
 
 — Plain Treatise on Horse-Shoeing. Post Svo. 2s. Gd. 
 
 — Remarks on Horses' Teeth. Post Svo. Is. Gd. 
 
 — Stables and Stable-Fittings. Imperial Svo. 15s. 
 Nevile's Farms and Farming. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 — Horses and Riding. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 Steel's Diseases of the Ox, a Manual of Bovine Pathology. 8vo. 15s. 
 Stonehenge's Dog in Health and Disease. Square crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 — Greyhound. Square crown Svo. 15s. 
 
 Taylor's Agricultural Note Book. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 Ville on Artificial Manures, by Crookes. Svo. 21s. 
 Youatt's Work on the Dog. Svo. 6s. 
 
 _ — — — Horse. 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 London: LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
 
 12 General Lists of Works. 
 
 SPORTS AND PASTIMES. 
 
 The Badminton Library of Sports and Pastimes. Edited by the Duke of Beaufort 
 and A. B. T. Watson. With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 each. 
 
 Hunting, by the Duke of Beaufort, &c. 
 
 Pishing, by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell, &e. 2 vols. 
 
 Racing, by the Earl of Suffolk, &c. 
 Campbell- Walker's Correct Card, or How to Play at Whist. Fcp. Svo. 2s. Gd. 
 Dead Shot (The) by Marksman. Crown 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 Francis's Treatise on Fishing in all its Branches. Post 8vo. 15s. 
 Jefferies' The Bed Deer. Crown 8vo. 4s. Gd. 
 Longman's Chess Openings. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. Gd. 
 Peel's A Highland Gathering. Illustrated. Crown Svo. 10s. Gd. 
 Pole's Theory of the Modern Scientific Game of Whist. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. Gd. 
 Proctor's How to Play Whist. Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 Ronalds's Fly-Fisher's Entomology. 8vo. 14s. 
 Verney's Chess Eccentricities. Crown Svo. 10s. Gd. 
 Wilcocks's Sea-Fisherman. Post 8vo. 6s. 
 Year's Sport (.The) for 1885. 8vo. 21s. 
 
 ENCYCLOP/EDIAS, DICTIONARIES, AND BOOKS OF 
 
 REFERENCE. 
 
 Acton's Modern Cookery for Private Families. Fcp. 8vo. 4s. Gd. 
 Ayre's Treasury of Bible Knowledge. Fcp. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Brande's Dictionary of Science, Literature, and Art. 3 vols, medium Svo. 63s. 
 Cabinet Lawyer (The), a Popular Digest of the Laws of England. Fcp. 8vo. 9s. 
 Cates's Dictionary of General Biography. Medium 8vo. 28s. 
 Doyle's The Official Baronage of England. Vols. I.-III. 3 vols. 4to. £5. 5s. ; 
 Large Paper Edition, £15. 16s. 
 
 Gwilt's Encyclopedia of Architecture. 8vo. 52s. Gd. 
 
 Keith Johnston's Dictionary of Geography, or General Gazetteer. 8vo. 42s. 
 
 Latham's (Dr.) Edition of Johnson's Dictionary. 4 vols. 4to. £7. 
 
 — — — — — — Abridged. Boyal 8vo. 14s. 
 M'Culloch's Dictionary of Commerce and Commercial Navigation. 8vo. 63s. 
 Maunder's Biographical Treasury. Fcp. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 — Historical Treasury. Fcp. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 — Scientific and Literary Treasury. Fcp. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 — Treasury of Bible Knowledge, edited by Ayre. Fcp. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 — Treasury of Botany, edited by Lindley & Moore. Two Parts, 12s. 
 
 — Treasury of Geography. Fcp. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 — Treasury of Knowledge and Library of Beference. Fcp. Svo. 6s. 
 
 — Treasury of Natural History. Fcp 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Quain's Dictionary of Medicine. Medium Svo. 31s. Gd., or in 2 vols. 34s. 
 
 Beeve's Cookery and Housekeeping. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6<7. 
 
 Bich's Dictionary of Roman and Greek Antiquities. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 Roget's Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases. Crown Svo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Ure's Dictionary of Arts, Manufactures, and Mines. 4 vols, medium Svo. £7. 7s. 
 
 Willich's Popular Tables, by Marriott. Crown Svo. 10s. 
 
 London: LONGMANS, GKEEN, & CO.
 
 A SELECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 EDUCATIONAL WOEKS. 
 
 TEXT BOOKS OF SCIENCE, MECHANICAL AND 
 PHYSICAL. 
 
 Abney's Treatise on Photography. Fcp. 8vo. Zs. 6(7. 
 Anderson's Strength of Materials. 3*. 6rf. 
 Armstrong's Organic Chemistry. 3s. G<l. 
 Ball's Elements of Astronomy. 6s. 
 Barry's Railway Appliances. Zs. Gd. 
 Bauerman's Systematic Mineralogy. Gs. 
 — Descriptive Mineralogy. 6s. 
 
 Bloxam and Huntington's Metals. 5s. 
 Glazebrook's Physical Optics, 6s. 
 Glazebrook and Shaw's Practical Physics. 6*'. 
 Gore's Art of Electro-Metallurgy. Gs. 
 
 Griffin's Algebra and Trigonometry. Zs. 6(7. Notes and Solutions, 3.*. Gd. 
 Jenkin's Electricity and Magnetism. 3*-. 6d. 
 Maxwell's Theory of Heat. 3.>'. G.7. 
 
 Merrifield's Technical Arithmetic and Mensuration. 3s. G(7. Key, 3s. 6(7. 
 Miller's Inorganic Chemistry. 3s. Gd. 
 Preece and Sivewright's Telegraphy. 5s. 
 Rutley's Study of Rocks, a Text-Book of Petrology, is. 6d. 
 Shelley's Workshop Appliances. 4s. 6d. 
 Thome's Structural and Physiological Botany. 6.s\ 
 Thorpe's Quantitative Chemical Analysis. 4.s. Gil. 
 Thorpe and Muir's Qualitative Analysis. Zs. 6d. 
 
 Tilden's Chemical Philosophy. 3s. Gd. With Answers to Problems. 4s. Gd. 
 Unwin's Elements of Machine Design. 6.?. 
 Watson's Plane and Solid Geometry. 36'. 6(7. 
 
 THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 
 
 Bloomfield's College and School Greek Testament. Fcp. 8vo. 5*. 
 Bolland & Lang's Politics of Aristotle. Post 8vo. 7.?. 6«/. 
 Collis's Chief Tenses of the Greek Irregular Verbs. 8vo. Is. 
 
 — Pontes Graeci, Stepping-Stone to Greek Grammar. 12mo. 3.?. 6<Z. 
 
 — Praxis Qraeca, Etymology. 12mo. 2s. 6(7. 
 
 — Greek Verse-Book, Praxis Iambica. 12mo. 4.?. 6(7. 
 Farrar's Brief Greek Syntax and Accidence. 12mo. 4s. Gd. 
 
 — Greek Grammar Rules for Harrow School. 12mo. Is. 6(7. 
 Hewitt's Greek Examination-Papers. 12mo. Is. Gd. 
 
 Isbister's Xenophon'a Anabasis, Books I. to III. with Xotes. 12mo. 3s. 6d. 
 Jerram's Graecfe Reddenda. Crown 8vo. Is. Gd. 
 
 London: LONGMANS, GREEN, k CO.
 
 14 A Selection of Educational Works. 
 
 Kennedy's Greek Grammar. 12mo. 4*. Gd. 
 
 Liddell & Scott's English-Greek Lexicon. 4to. 36s. ; Square 12mo. 7s. Gd. 
 Linwood's Sophocles, Greek Text, Latin Notes. 4th Edition. 8vo. 16s. 
 Mahaffy's Classical Greek Literature. Crown 8vo. Poets, 7s. 6rf. Prose Writers, 
 
 7s. Gd. 
 Morris's Greek Lessons. Square 18mo. Part I. 2s. 6d. ; Part II. Is. 
 Parry's Elementary Greek Grammar. 12mo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Plato's Republic, Book I. Greek Text, English Notes by Hardy. Crown 8vo. 3s. 
 Sheppard and Evans's Notes on Thucydides. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 Thucydides, Book IV. with Notes by Barton and Chavasse. Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 Valpy's Greek Delectus, improved by White. 12mo. 2s. Gd. Key, 2s. Gd. 
 White's Xenophon's Expedition of Cyrus, with English Notes. 12mo. 7s. Gd. 
 Wilkins's Manual of Greek Prose Composition. Crown Svo. 5s. Key, 5s. 
 
 — Exercises in Greek Prose Composition. Crown 8vo. 4s. Gd. Key, 2s. Gd. 
 
 — New Greek Delectus. Crown Svo. 3s. Gd. Key, 2s. Gd. 
 
 — Progressive Greek Delectus. 12mo. 4s. Key, 2s. Gd. 
 
 — Progressive Greek Anthology. 12 mo. 5s. 
 
 — Scriptores Attici, Excerpts with English Notes. Crown 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 — Speeches from Thucydides translated. Post 8vo. 6s. 
 Yonge's English-Greek Lexicon. 4to. 21s. ; Square 12mo. 8s. Gd. 
 
 THE LATIN LANGUAGE. 
 
 Bradley's Latin Prose Exercises. 12mo. 3s. 6t/. Key, 5s. 
 
 — Continuous Lessons in Latin Prose. 12mo. 5s. Key, 5s. Gd. 
 
 — Cornelius Nepos, improved by White. 12mo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 — Eutropius, improved by White. 12mo. 2s. Gd. 
 
 — Ovid's Metamorphoses, improved by White. 12ino. 4s. Gd. 
 
 — Select Fables of Phasdrus, improved by White. 12mo. 2s. Gd. 
 Collis's Chief Tenses of Latin Irregular Verbs. Svo. Is. 
 
 — Pontes Latini, Stepping-Stone to Latin Grammar. 12mo. 3s. Gd. 
 Hewitt's Latin Examination-Papers. 12mo. Is. Gd. 
 Isbister's Caesar, Books I.-VII. 12mo. 4s. ; or with Reading Lessons, 4s. Gd. 
 
 — Caesar's Commentaries, Books I.-V. 12mo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 — First Book of Caesar's Gallic War. 12mo. Is. Gd. 
 Jeffcott & Tossell's Helps for Latin Students. Fcp. Svo. 2s. 
 Jerram's Latine Reddenda. Crown Svo. Is. Gd. 
 
 Kennedy's Child's Latin Primer, or First Latin Lessons. 12mo. 2s. 
 
 — Child's Latin Accidence. 12mo. Is. 
 
 — Elementary Latin Grammar. 12mo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Elementary Latin Reading Book, or Tirocinium Latinum. 12mo. 2s. 
 
 — Latin Prose, Palaestra Stili Latini. 12mo. 6s. 
 SubsidiaPrimaria, Exercise Books to the Public School Latin Primer. 
 
 I. Accidence and Simple Construction, 2s. Gd. II. Syntax, 3s. Gd. 
 Key to the Exercises in Subsidia Priniaria, Parts I. and II. price 5s. 
 Subsidia Primaria, III. the Latin Compound Sentence. 12mo. Is. 
 Curriculum Stili Latini. 12mo. 4s. Gd. Key, 7s. Gd. 
 
 — Pakestra Latina, or Second Latin Reading Rook. 12rno. 5s. 
 
 London: LONGMA.NS, GREEN, & CO.
 
 A Selection of Educational Works. 
 
 15 
 
 Miilington's Latin Prose Composition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d, 
 
 Selections from Latin Prose. Crown 8vo. 2s. Gd. 
 Moody's Eton Latin Grammar. 12mo. 2s. Gd. The Accidence separately, Is. 
 Morris's Elementa Latina. Fcp. Svo. Is. Gd. Key, 2s. Gd. 
 Parry's Origines Romance, from Livy, witli English Not . n 8vo. 4*. 
 
 Tlic Public School Latin Primer. 12mo. 2s. Gil. 
 — — — — Grammar, by Rev. Dr. Kennedy. Post 8vo. Is. Gd. 
 Prendergast's Mastery Series, Manual of Latin. 12mo. 2s. Gd. 
 Rapier's Introduction to Composition of Latin Verse. 12mo. 3s. 6<f. Key, 2s. Gd. 
 Sheppard and Turner's Aids to Classical Study. 12mo. 5s. Key, 6s. 
 Valpy's Latin Delectus, improved by White. 12mo. 2s. Gd. Key, 3s. (',!. 
 Virgil's JEneid, translated into English Verse by Conington. Crown 8vo. 9s. 
 
 — Works, edited by Kennedy. Crown 8vo. 10\. Gd. 
 
 — — translated into English Prose by Conington. Crown 8vo. 9s. 
 Walford's Progressive Exercises in Latin Elegiac Verse. 12mo. 2s. 6d. Key, 5s. 
 White and Riddle's Large Latin-English Dictionary. 1 vol. 4to. 21s. 
 
 White's Concise Latin-Eug. Dictionary for University Students. Royal 8vo. 12s. 
 
 — Junior Students' Eng.-Lat. & Lat.-Eng. Dictionary. Square 12mo. 5s. 
 
 „ . , f The Latin-English Dictionary, price 3s. 
 
 beparateiy -j The Eng ij sh . La ti n Dictionary, price 3s. 
 
 Yonge's Latin Gradus. Post Svo. 9s. ; or witli Appendix, 12s. 
 
 WHITES GRAMMAR SCHOOL GREEK TEXTS. 
 
 ^sop (Fables) & Palrephatus (Myths). 
 
 32mo. Is. 
 Homer, Iliad, Book I. Is. 
 
 — Odyssey, Book I. Is. 
 Lucian, Select Dialogues. Is. 
 Xenophon, Anabasis, Books I. III. IV. 
 
 V. & VI. Is. Gd. each ; Book II. Is. ; 
 
 Book VII. 2s. 
 
 Xenophon, Book I. without Vocabu- 
 lary. 3d. 
 
 St. Matthew's and St. Luke's Gospels. 
 2s. Gd. each. 
 
 St. Mark's and St. John's Gospels. 
 Is. Gd. each. 
 
 The Acts of the Apostles. 2s. Gd. 
 
 St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans. Is. Gd. 
 
 The Four Gospels in Greek, with Greek- English Lexicon. Edited by John T. 
 White, D.D. Oxon. Square 32mo. price 5s. 
 
 WHITE'S GRAMMAR SCHOOL LATIN TEXTS. 
 
 Cajsar. Gallic War, Books I. & II. V. 
 
 & VI. Is. each. Book I. without 
 
 Vocabulary, 3d. 
 Cassar, Gallic War, Books III. & IV. 
 
 dd. each. 
 Caesar, Gallic War, Book VII. Is. 6.7. 
 Cicero, Cato Major (Old Age). Is. Gd. 
 Cicero, Lselius (Friendship). Is. G</. 
 Eutropius, Roman History, Books I. 
 
 & II. Is. Books III. & IV. Is. 
 Horace, Odes, Books I. II. & IV. Is. each. 
 Horace, Odes, Book III. Is. Gd. 
 Horace, Epodes and Carmen Seculare. 
 
 Is. 
 
 Nepos, Miltiades, Simon, Pausanias, 
 Aristides. M. 
 
 Ovid. Selections from Epistles and 
 Fasti. Is. 
 
 Ovid, Select Myths from Metamor- 
 phoses. 9d. 
 
 Phasdrus, Select Easy Fables, 9d. 
 
 Phfedrus, Fables, Books I. & II. Is. 
 
 Sallust. Bellum Catilinarium. Is. Gd. 
 
 Virgil, Georgics, Book IV. Is. 
 
 Virgil, iEneid, Books I. to VI. Is. each. 
 Book I. without Vocabulary, 3d. 
 
 Virgil, iEneid, Books VII. VIII. X. 
 XI. XII. Is. Gd. each. 
 
 London: LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
 
 16 A Selection of Educational Works. 
 
 THE FRENCH LANGUAGE. 
 
 Albites's How to Speak French. Fcp. Svo. 5.s. 6c?. 
 
 — Instantaneous French Exercises. Fcp. 2s. Key, 2s. 
 Cassal's French Genders. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6.7. 
 Cassal & Karcher's Graduated French Translation Book. Part I. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Part II. 5s. Key to Part I. by Professor Cassal, price 5s. 
 Contanseau's Practical French and English Dictionary. Post Svo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 — Pocket French and English Dictionary. Square lSrno. Is Gd. 
 
 — Premieres Lectures. 12mo. 2s. 6(7. 
 
 — First Step in French. 12mo. 2s. Gd. Key, 3*. 
 
 — French Accidence. 12mo. 2s. Gd. 
 
 — — Grammar. 12mo. is. Key, 3s. 
 Contanseau's Middle-Class French Course. Fcp. 8vo. :— 
 
 French Translation-Book, 8(7. 
 Easy French Delectus, 3d. 
 First French Reader, 8c7. 
 Second French Reader, 8(7. 
 French and English Dialogues, 8(7. 
 
 Accidence, 8i7. 
 Syntax, 8(7. 
 
 French Conversation-Book, 8(7. 
 First French Exercise-Book, 8(7. 
 Second French Exercise-Book, 8(7. 
 Contanseau's Guide to French Translation. 12mo. 3s. Gd. Key, 3s. 6(7. 
 
 — Prosateurs et Poetes Francais. 12mo. 5s. 
 Precis de la Literature Francaise. 12mo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 — Abrege de l'Histoire de France. 12mo. 2s. Gd. 
 
 Feval's Chouans et Bleus, with Notes by C. Sankey, M.A. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6(7. 
 
 Jerram's Sentences for Translation into French. Cr. 8vo. Is. Key, 2s. Gd. 
 
 Prendergast's Mastery Series, French. 12mo. 2s. Gd. 
 
 Souvestre's Philosophe sous les Toits, by Stievenard. Square 18mo. Is. Gd. 
 
 Stepping-Stone to French Pronunciation. ISmo. 1*. 
 
 Stievenard's Lectures Francaises from Modern Authors. 12mo. 4s. Gd . 
 
 — Rules and Exercises on the French Language. 12mo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Tarver's Eton French Grammar. 12mo. Gs. Gd. 
 
 THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 
 
 Blackley's Practical German and English Dictionary. Post 8vo. 3s. 6(7. 
 Bnchheim's German Poetry, for Repetition. 18mo. Is. Gd. 
 Collis's Card of German Irregular Verbs. 8vo. 2s. 
 Fischer-Fischart's Elementary German Grammar. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. G<7. 
 Just's German Grammar. 12mo. Is. Gd. 
 
 — German Reading Book. 12mo. 3s. 6(7. 
 Longman's Pocket German and English Dictionary. Square 18mo. 2s. 6<7. 
 Naftel's Elementary German Course for Public Schools. Fcp. 8vo. 
 
 German Accidence. 9(7. 
 
 German Syntax. 9r7. 
 
 First German Exercise-Book. 9(7. 
 
 Second German Exercise-Book. 9(7. 
 Prendergast's Mastery Series, German. 12mo. 2s. 6(7. 
 Quick's Essentials of German. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6(7. 
 Selss's School Edition of Goethe's Faust. Crown Svo. 5s. 
 — Outline of German Literature. Crown Svo. 4s. 6<7 
 Wirth's German Chit-Chat. Crown Svo. 2s. 6c7. 
 
 German Prose Composition Book. 9(7. 
 First German Reader. 9(7. 
 Second German Reader. 9(7. 
 
 London: LONGMANS, GKEEN, & CO. 
 
 Spot lis. ooode & Co. Printers, New-street Square, London.
 
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