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CHAPTER XXXIII. --SOPHY.
“I dared not trust any one, Mary,” said | Powisland, and her father was with Grandfather Zaidee.
Vivian. Did they put it back in the Grange “And to think how slow Percy was,” con- library, Sophy? it had the same binding as all tinued Mary, who had by no means exhausted the other books. Did you see it, that strange ber own self-congratulations, " and how ready legacy? I thought Grandfather Vivian was to believe that I myself, and only me, was anx- leading me then; and when I found the book, I ious to see Philip on his way home. He said I was very ill, and had a fever. I thought at first had a right to my whim-simple Percy !--- and I would have come home, but it was not enough after all, the dog was a greater assistance to him for Philip, and I never knew he had gone to than I was in finding you out; for he had found India : I thought he was at the Grange, and you out before you discovered yourself. Poor you were all happy at home." Sylvo, Lizzy, what will become of him? He will “Happy at home, when we had lost you, go away to the delights of savagery; he will Zay!” cried Sophy; “the Grange was never shoot elephants, or be an Abyssinian dandy, and like its own self again. We will keep Philip's Sylvo's place will go to waste, and all the while birthday at home this year
- we will keep it
back to England. I was afraid to come to Eng-
been very long settled here when Mary met “ MRS. BURLINGTON !”
Percy. I went one evening in the carriage to “ Yes, indeed, it is so, Zay,” said Sophy, bring her home, and then I saw him. I could shaking her pretty head with mock melancholy not tell who he was, Sophy, and yet I knew as she came in; "everybody must be Mrs. some him; and then I heard it was Mr. Vivian, the thing, you know, and we are all very happy. great author ! and then he came to Twickenham, But Zay, Zay! I want you to tell me from the and I read his books, and I was very proud, very beginning. And are you glad to be home? you may be sure. But to hear of you all as if And you were nearly breaking your heart when I was a stranger, and to hear Elizabeth's little mamma 'was ill, Miss Cumberland says? Do girl called Zaidee, and to hear that Aunt Vivian you think Philip is changed? did you not wonder was ill, and Philip coming home — 0, Sophy, to hear that Margaret was married to a Powis, I had nearly broken my heart !" after all ? and do you know Elizabeth's little girl, “ But it is all over now, dear Zay, — dear the dearest of all the children, is called Zaidee? Zay!” cried Sophy, with her arms round her Dear Zay, you are our own now, you are no one recovered companion. “ And you were grieved else's. Begin at the beginning, where you went to hear that Philip had gone to India; and you as a governess — Mrs. Disbrowe's. What in the ventured to write and send the deed. Do you world did you teach the children, Zaidee ? -- did know, we began to be so eager every post-time you tell them stories ? for you know you never after your first letter canie. Mamma said you would learn anything else yourself.”
would be sure to write again, and at first she “I could not teach them at all,” said Zaidee, was quite confident of finding you.
But never * and they would not have me. I thought they mind all that — you are found now, Zaidee, and were very right at the time; but they were cruel you will never be lost again. Come down -children are very cruel sometimes - and I stairs, where they are all waiting for us. Where wished for nothing but to die.”
did you get the grayhound, Zay? - was it only “And then?” cried Sophy. Sophy was very one of Sir David's hounds ? for poor Sermo is curious to hear the whole.
not living now, to stalk after you. I think I “And then I went to Mrs. Lancaster's, and should not have known you so soon but for the met Aunt Burtonshaw; good Aunt Burtonshaw ! dog. Poor Sermo pined and died when you were I should have died, and never seen this day, if gone. I have so much to tell you, and so much it had not been for her,” said Zaidee; “and I to ask you. Do you think Philip is changed ? went to Ulm with her, to be a companion to But come, they are waiting for us down stairs." Mary.”
“ Here is Sophy, with Miss Vivian; and here “To Ulm! - where is that?” said Sophy. is the whole breakfast-table in alarm, lest our “Mamma heard you had gone abroad, and they heroine should have disappeared again,” said went everywhere seeking you, and every one of the stately Sir David Powis, as Zaidee followed them saw you somewhere, Zaidee. It had never her cousin into the well-filled breakfast-room. been you at all! for I am sure they did not go to “ Miss Vivian !” said Sophy; “only think, Ulm.
mamma, what a devastation when Zaidee comes " It is on the Danube. We were there a to be Miss Vivian? Elizabeth was Miss Vivian great many years," said Zaidee, “ and then when when Zaidee went away. Then it was Margaret's I grew up, Mrs. Cumberland said I should be turn and mine, and now there is only the called by their name, and be her adopted youngest. There is no Miss Vivian in the world daughter. They have been very kind to me, but Zay!” Sophy - as kind as they were to Mary. But “ Zaidee, come to me,” said Margaret, with a first I found that book -- an old woman had it - little authority ; “mamma had you all last an old Welsh servant, who was a servant at Inight, and Sophy has had you this morning, and
Elizabeth will have you at all times. What | faults of your peasantry as to build them palaces beautiful hair she has got, and how she has of glass." grown, and how much she is like Elizabeth! “It certainly would be an effectual lesson Don't you think so, mamma? There is a picture against throwing stones,” said Sir David Powis, in the gallery that might have been done for with well-bred grwyity. Zaidee. It is quite the family face. My little “ But, Mr.Cumberland, only think how Herbert has a little of it. Did you see my boy, cold!” cried Sophy, whose apprehension was as Zaidee? And you saw all Elizabeth's children? practical and matter-of-fact as ever; “they Why have you stayed so long away from home, could never stand a gale at Briarford; and then you foolish child ? You don't know how we have - why, it would quite be living in public; wished for you, and searched for you. Sophy everybody would see everything they did.” sobbed herself to sleep I cannot tell how many
“ So much the better for their transparency nights after you were lost, and we did nothing and purity of character,” said Mr. Cumberland; but dream of you night and day. I never hear “so much the better, my dear madam — and an the winter wind even at Powisland but I listen immediate cure to the dangerous propensity of for footsteps; and you have been Miss Cumber- the poorer classes for throwing stones, as Sir land all the while. How very strange that your David Fery justly says - but perfectly capable adopted sister should be Percy's betrothed! - of a high rate of temperature, as our conserhow very strange! When we heard of Miss vatories show. I should not be at all surprised Cumberland, and of Miss Cumberland's sister, if the old proverb of those who live in glass who was like our Elizabeth, how little we dreamt houses' had a prophetic reference to this beauthat she was our own Zaidee! You must bring tiful suggestion. We do our ancestors very poor Zay to Powisland, mamma. And Zay, Sir justice, Sir David. I am convinced they perDavid wants to know about the old woman who ceived the capacity of a great many things that was a servant to his family. Everything is so we, with all our boasts, are only beginning to wonderful about this child - Grandfather Viv- put into use. I consider this an admirable opian's book, and the person who served the portunity for a great moral reformation - to a Powises - she must have been quite surrounded man who considers the welfare of his country a with things belonging to the family. You must perfectly sufficient reason for acquiring land.” have remembered us as well, Zaidee, as we re And Mr. Cumberland turned immediately to membered you."
the Times Supplement of yesterday, and began When Lady Powis paused to take breath, Mrs. to turn over its advertisements with an interBurtonshaw eagerly took the opportunity. “My ested eye. Mr. Cumberland already felt a disin. dear child," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, “ I am sure terested necessity for becoming a landed propriI shall never be able to call you anything but etor, and in imagination saw his glittering line Elizabeth, or to think you belong to another of novel cottages, the inhabitants of which should family. Indeed, I am sure I never shall; and be effectually convinced of the damage of throwto think we should have had her so long, and ing stones, shining under the sun, with a sheen never found this out. Maria Anna! --and Mary of reflection against which the homely thatched to discover it all! But my dear Mary always roof had no chance. Sir David Powis, who was was so sensible a child. We will all find it very a satirist, and loved “ a character" with his dull going back to Twickenham, and leaving you whole heart, drew near Mr. Cumberland with behind, my dear love ; and Sylvo will never the most benevolent eagerness to ascertain the believe it, I am sure. It will be very dreary particulars of his scheme; and Philip was being for me, Elizabeth, and Maria Anna will feel it a questioned at one end of the table, Zaidee at the great deal, and so will Mr. Cumberland. I think other. The family party abounded in conversawe will never be able to stay in that house when tion, every one had so much to ask, and so much we lose both Mary and you.”
to tell; and though Zaidee was the greater won“The house is necessarily imperfect, sister der of the two, and somewhat eclipsed Philip, Burtonshaw,” said Mr. Cumberland. “Improve. Philip had been absent equally long, and had a ments are never so satisfactory as a place well larger stock of adventures. The very servants planned from the beginning. I have a great moved about in quickened time in that buzz of mind to begin anew - the Elizabethan style has happy commotion -- the wide family circle was its advantages; and I hear a great deal of the so full of life. adaptability of glass. What do you think of glass and iron as materials for your cottages, Sir David ? - a beautiful material, brilliant and inexpensive, and capable of very rapid erection. To the much amazement of all the family, it By the way, I know of nothing better adapted to appeared that Philip was anxious to go to Lonpromote the artistic education of the people. don before proceeding to the Grange, which was Those light iron shafts take the most beautiful still “home” to all these Vivians. Grandfather forms; and as for color, nothing can excel glass. Vivian's will had to be proved and established, Suppose a row of cottages now, instead of the and Zaidee formally invested with her property, ordinary affairs, with low walls and thatched and Philip had business of his own in town. roof, springing up to the light with these glitter- Philip proposed a family migration thither; he ing arches. Depend upon it, sir, a very great was very sympathetic of the loss which Zaidee's moral influence is in the nature of our houses. kind friends must feel in losing her so suddenly. You could not do anything so sure to correct the l“I do not care to part with you, mother, even
CHAPTER XXXIV. -THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE
for a day," said Philip; " and it is hard to sep Cumberland. Silver spoons were continually slidarate may cousin from her old life so hurriedly.”ing out by the buttery-hatch, which was intend
“But, Philip it is no worse, at the very worst, ed for nothing less innocent than broken meats than if she had been married,” said Sophy; or bread; and the benevolent dolphin of the foun“when she married, of course, she must have tain was long since robbed of his enamelled cup. left Mrs. Cumberland. Miss Cumberland her. But, last and worst, the unkindest cut of all, self must leave home when she is married. It those urchins, for whose benefit Mr. Cumberland may be very hard, you know, but we all have to besought his wealthy brethren to decorate with do it, and this is no worse than Zaidee's mar- monograms the front of their houses, took into riage would be." But to the surprise of Sophy, their independent British minds to pelt Mr. CumPhilip regarded with considerable haughtiness berland's own monogram with clay, and, findthe prospect of Zaidee's marriage. It did not ing it an admirable butt, persevered till the phiseem at all an agreeable object of contemplation lanthropist found only bits of the dragon's tail to the head of the house. He withdrew from and morsels of the gilding peering out, unfortuthe question with great gravity and stateliness, nate memorials of the cannonade. “If these and with considerable embarrassment mingling little vagabonds had been bred in houses of crysin his usual deference, turned to Zaidee herself. tal, it would have fared better with this ornamen“If it is only a whim, will you humor it?" tation, for which they do not yet show themselves said Philip, bending over Zaidee's hand. “I sufficiently educated,” said Mr. Cumberland, would rather have a little time elapse before we undismayed. “Sir David Powis is a very senall go back to the Grange ; our old home is very sible man, sister Burtonshaw. The next generdear to us all, but I ask for a few weeks', a very ation will be better taught. You shall see no few weeks', delay."
missiles either of stone or clay in the hands of Zaidee became embarrassed, too, in sight of the boys of my cottages. We will refine these Philip's embarrassment; she withdrew from him uncultivated natures, sister Burtonshaw - never a little, and her eyes fell under his glance with fear!” and Mr. Cumberland retired to perfect an uncomfortable consciousness. Wondering, as his plan for the construction of cottages of iron she did, what Philip could mean, Zaidee did not and glass. inquire into it; she consented to his wish readily, Sylvo is coming here for a week or two, Elizbut with considerable confusion. “If Zaidee abeth,” said Mrs. Burtonshaw. “ Poor Sylvo, will invite us, let us all keep Philip's birthday I am sure you will be kind to him, my darling, at home in the Grange, ” cried Sophy; and to and not send the poor boy away. He is a very this there was a universal assent. But when different man from Mr. Vivian, my love. I do Mary and Zaidee, with Percy for their squire, not deny that Mr. Vivian is handsome, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Burlington for their chaperone, set out and a very fine young man; but I am afraid he on a day's visit to the old family dwelling-place, always takes his own way. Now Sylvo, though Philip evaded all invitations to accompany them. he is so manly, is so easy and so good, that any He preferred not to see the Grange till his busi- one he loves can make him do anything, my dear ness was done, and all his plans concluded. No child.” body could understand Philip, and mysterious “Sylvo is very good and very kind. I know whispers of wonder stole through the family, and he is, Aunt Burtonshaw," said Zaidee. Sophy and Margaret held synods upon him. “Yes, indeed, my love, though I am his Could Philip be in love,” that mysterious con- mother, Sylvo is very good, Elizabeth. Now, I dition which these old married ladies were amused am sure there is something very grand about at, yet interested in? Elizabeth, for her part, Mr. Vivian; but, for my part, I always feel I only smiled when she was introduced to these would rather do his way than make him do discassions. Nobody was jealous of Elizabeth mine, and that makes a great difference in mar. - fet Lady Powis did grudge a little that the ried life, my dear child. All the ladies wanted newly-returned and well-beloved brother should to go to the Grange, that place of yours, my not give his confidence equally to all.
dear; but Mr. Vivian wanted to come to LonBut, as it happened, Philip had not given his don, and therefore we came; and all your trouble confidence to any one, if he had a confidence to and your running away was because Mr. Vivian give. The family assembly dispersed from Cas- would not hear reason. I like him very well; tle Vivian to gather again at the Grange; and he is a very handsome young man, and I do not Philip and Percy and Aunt Vivian accompanied wonder his family are proud of him; but I do the Cumberland family to London. Zaidee was not think I should like to marry Mr. Vivian, still Elizabeth, their adopted daughter, to these Elizabeth; he is a great deal different from my kind people; she was still Aunt Bartonshaw's Sylvo. I am afraid he always takes his own dear child, though Aunt Burtonshaw's hopes for way.' Sylvo grew fainter and fainter; and the house at Žaidee did not dispute the fact, for in her se Twickenham was honored to receive Mrs. Vivian, cret heart she was greatly disturbed about Philip. who would not again lose sight of the long-lost What Philip was doing was not at present very child. To the kind but somewhat imperious mis- well known to any of them. He lived in London tress of the Grange, Mr. Cumberland's porch with Percy, but came faithfully with Perey every was an intolerable nuisance; she had much ado night to visit the family at Twickenham. Percy restraining herself from sweeping forth its inap had made the boldest dash into the business of propriate inmates, who, indeed, made themselves his legitimate profession. Some one who knew somewhat embarrassing neighbors even to Mrs. I the family, and admired the genius of it, had
retained him to advocate his cause in a plea very them after an antique fashion, which, in Philips shortly to be tried ; and Percy laughed his gay, fancy, adds the last aggravation of which it is scornful laugh when remonstrances were made capable to Zaidee's singular beauty. This lovely against his daily visits to his betrothed, and lady of romance is that same Zaidce who, with a when his time of preparation was spoken of. “I child's love and unthinking generosity, sacrificed am quite prepared,” said Percy, and there was all her world of comfort and security for the no farther room to say a word. But one even- sake of Philip. This is the Zaidee who once ing, while they sat in expectation of the brothers, made a certain proposal to Philip, which roused Mr. Steele came to pay one of his visits. “Have his boyish manhood only to annoyance and emyou heard what happened to young Vivian?" barrassment; but the Philip of the present time said Mr. Steele. “The case came on before it has learned an infinite deal of humility from was expected, and he got up immediately, and those eyes which once appealed to him as the made the most brilliant speech that has been highest judge. As he steps back, he makes a heard for years ; but when the young gentleman beseeching sign to his mother, of which Mrs. sat down, what do you think he had done, Mrs. Vivian, who is not in the habit of hiding her Burtonshaw? Instead of pleading his client's son's candle under a measure, takes no notice as case, he had been pleading the opposition — and she proceeds. gained his plea!”
“What do you think Philip has been doing, It was but too true. Percy came out very Zaidee? Your cousins' portions were suddenly rueful, very comical — varying between great brought to nothing by that unfortunate will. discomfiture and despondency, and fits of over-The children were all penniless : Margaret had powering laughter. * It was not my side, to be nothing when she married, and neither had sure, but it was the right of the question,” said Sophy, poor child, who had more need for it; Percy. “They could never have gained it with and Percy has got embarrassed, you know. their blundering fellow of a leading counsel, who Well, here is Philip, who, after all, did not get could make nothing of it, right or wrong. I Castle Vivian as an inheritance so much as a can't help it; and now I suppose I am done; purchase — what do you think he says he has they may call me 'Single-speech Vivian.' Alas been doing? He has been settling the portions for the evanescent glory of fees! I will never of the younger children upon them more than get one again."
they could have had, had we kept the GrangeIt happened, fortunately, that Mr. Cumber- very considerable fortunes, indeed, Zaidee. He land was greatly tickled with this misadventure has made himself quite a poor man. Philip of his son-in-law elect. It struck the philoso- ought not to have done it; what do you say, pher's peculiar sense of humor; and nobody child?”. had a word of blame to say to the gay Percy, “I only remember what Philip said to me, who was already casting about in his fertile Aunt Vivian, when I found the will,” said brains for some other expedient, which might be Zaidee. more successful, to disembarrass him. Philip “ And what was that?" said Mrs. Vivian was standing by the window with his mother. eagerly. Philip made a pretence of drawing The mirror gave a pretty reflection of these two still farther back, but, like a hypocrite, while he figures — the little lady in her widow's dress, pretended to turn away, only came the nearer. with a rich India shawl which Philip had “He said it was the office of the head of the brought, replacing the Shetland wool one which house to see that the children of the house had has been worn out before now; but her rich, dim, all their rights," said Zaidee; and she raised to black silk gown, and her widow's cap the same Philip those glistening beautiful eyes which as of old, her waist as slender, her foot in its struck Philip with such profound humility. He high-heeled shoe, as rapid and as peremptory- turned away on the instant, afraid to trust him her whole person as completely realizing the fairy self, but he could not help hearing the end of godmother of Zaidee's fancy as it had ever done; Zaidee's sentence. “ This is Philip's inheriwhile Philip stood beside her in the easy, une- tance, Aunt Vivian. I understand it, he is laborate dress of an English gentleman, with the head of the house !” his close curls clustering about his manly head, his cheek bronzed, his hand laid playfully upon his mother's shoulder : he has been making a report to her, laughing at some objections she “My dear love, Sylvo is coming to-morrow," urges, and explaining rapidly and clearly some- said Mrs. Burtonshaw. Mrs. Burtonshaw was thing which his mother only receives with diffi- nervous about Sylvo's coming, and told every culty, shaking her head. While they stand individual in the house, though every one al thus, Mrs. Vivian suddenly calls Zaidee to her; ready knew. Sylvo came from London, and on the instant Philip Vivian relapses into a brought with him, instead of the peaceful portstately and deferential paladin - the most chiv- manteau which might have been expected, the alrous knight who ever worshipped his lady most marvellous stock of baggage — " traps," from afar — and withdraws a step back as his as Sylvo was pleased to entitle them. Among beautiful cousin comes forward to answer his these were two fowling-pieces, a magnificently mother's summons. Mrs. Vivian has put away mounted dirk, and some murderous revolvers, Zaidee's simple muslin gowns, and has dressed with one or two extraordinary plaids or blan. her richly as it suits her frir form to be dressed; kets, the use of all which to a quiet country and the maker of these rustling silks has made gentleman in Essex, Mrs. Burtonshaw could not
CHAPTER XXXV. --CONCLUSION.
divine. Sylvo was much disposed to silence for Mary will be a bride so soon, there is little the first day of his visit; and though the leaves time to think of anything else — for Percy, with were thin, and the grass no longer desirable as a his younger brother's fortune, can be content couch, Sylvo still frequented the group of trces with that other profession of literature, in which among which he had been wont to enjoy his he cannot havu the same brilliant misadventures cigar. On the second day, Sylvo's mouth was as in the learned mysteries of law - and there opened; he had been discovered seated among is to be a marriage here at Twickenham. But the trees, polishing with his own hand the silver all this while the great mirror over the wall, mounting of his favorite revolver. “Mansfield when it holds up its picture of Zaidee's beautiful is just about setting out; he's a famous fellow,” face, chronicles a constant shade of perplexitysaid Sylro. This oracular speech was enough an anxious cloud upon this fair brow of hers, to fill his mother with alarm and trembling. which is like the brow of a queen. There is no “Mr. Mansfield is quite a savage,” said Mrs. understanding Philip -- he is a perpetual mysBurtonshaw, with dignity; “I do not wonder tery with his reserve and courtly politeness; and he should be glad to go back again. He may be now his birthday is approaching very closely, quite a fine gentleman among those poor crea- and they all prepare to go home to the Grange. tures, Sylvo, but he is not rery much at home.'' It is wild October weather on the hill of Briar
Sylvo's “ ha, ha" came with considerable ford. Over that great waste of sky the clouds embarrassment from behind his mustache. are hurrying in the wildest flight, and this bold "Fact is, I thought of taking a turn myself, to gale has pleasure in tossing them close upon see the world,” said Sylvo, “ A man can't be each other in black, tumultuous masses, and shut up in a house like a girl. Mansfield 's the scattering them abroad anon with a shout of best company going — better than a score of triumph. There is no change upon the wet, your grand men; never have such another green carpet of these Cheshire fields, and there chance."
are still the old gables and haystacks of Briar"To see the world?” said Mrs. Burtonshaw. ford, the square tower of the church among “What do you call seeing the world, you poor these little plumes of blue smoke, and the dwarf simple boy? And there is my dear darling oaks in the hedge-rows shaking their knotted child, Elizabeth, you will leave her pining, you branches and remainder leaves in the face of the unfeeling great fellow, and never say a word?” strong blast. Above here, on the lawn of the
“Much she cares !” said Sylvo, getting up Grange, the winds are rushing together, as the very hastily. “If she is a beauty, what have I strangers think, from every quarter under got to do with it, when she won't have me? I'll heaven ; but even the strangers feel the wild be off, mother; you can keep the place, and see exhilaration of the sweeping gale, which raises things all right. Mansfield 's a long way better their voices into gay shouts of half-heard words than Elizabeth for me."
ánd laughter, and keeps up a perpetual riot “My dear boy, she would have you. Do not round this exposed and far-seeing dwellinggo and leave us, Sylvo; she will break her place. The sea is roaring with an angry curl heart,” said simple Mrs. Burtonshaw.
upon yonder line of sand-banks far away-a But Sylvo only whistled a long, shrill" whew!" | lingering line of red among yonder storm-clouds of undutiful scepticism. “I know better,” said tells of the sunset, as it yields unwillingly to Sylvo; and he went off to his cigar.
night- and all these solitary lines of road trace And thus was the exit of Sylvester Burton- out the silent country, travelling towards the shaw. Sylvo may write a book when he comes sky; but there is no Mariana now at the window nome, for anything that can be predicted to the of the Grange, looking for the wayfarer who contrary. Sylvo, at the present moment, lives never comes. The red and genial fire-light a life which the vagrants in Mrs. Cumberland's gleams between the heavy mullions of the great porch would sink under in a week. Sylvo tramps window; there is light in the library, light in barefoot over burning deserts, hews his way the young ladies' room — the bright cross light through unimaginable jungle, fights wild beasts, of old. The modern windows at the other end and has a very hard struggle for his savage ex- of the drawing-room are draped once more to istence; all for no reason in the world, but their feet with crimson curtains, but no veil because he happened to be born to wealth and shuts out that glimpse of wild sky, with its tuleisure, and found it a very slow thing to be an mult of cloud and wind, across which these English country gentleman. No wonder the great mullions of stone print themselves like savages whom Sylvo emulates open their heathen bars. There is Mrs. Vivian's easy-chair and her eyes in the utmost wonder; he does it for pleas- high footstool; there is Percy's writing-table, ure, this extraordinary Englishman, and roars where Percy has been writing; there is the his “ ha, ha,” out of his forest of beard, over hereditary newspaper, at which Philip no longer all his voluntary hardship. Savage life has no “pshaws,” but sometimes laughs outright. But such phenomenon;, and, for the good of society, in all this familiar room there is no living object when he comes home, Sylvo will write a book. familiar; there is only a group of beautiful
“ Sylvo will be quite happy - it will do him children playing in the light of the fire. good, Aunt Burtonshaw,” said Mary Cumber Lady Powis is making a grand toilette. land; " and you have still two children - you Sophy is wasting her dressing-hour talking to have Elizabeth and me."
Mary Cumberland, but there are still two beauWhereupon Aunt Burtonshaw wipes her kind tiful faces reflected dimly in the little mirror eyes, and is comforted.
over the bright fireplace of the young ladies'