'I like the lively parts, but not the serious ones,' replied Miss Temple; 'the author has observed but he has not felt.'

'It is satirical,' said Miss Grandison; 'I wonder why all this cla.s.s of writers aim now at the sarcastic. I do not find life the constant sneer they make it.'

'It is because they do not understand life,' said Henrietta, 'but have some little experience of society. Therefore their works give a perverted impression of human conduct; for they accept as a princ.i.p.al, that which is only an insignificant accessory; and they make existence a succession of frivolities, when even the career of the most frivolous has its profounder moments.'

'How vivid is the writer's description of a ball or a dinner,' said Miss Grandison; 'everything lives and moves. And yet, when the hero makes love, nothing can be more unnatural. His feelings are neither deep, nor ardent, nor tender. All is stilted, and yet ludicrous.'

'I do not despise the talent which describes so vividly a dinner and a ball,' said Miss Temple. 'As far as it goes it is very amusing, but it should be combined with higher materials. In a fine novel, manners should be observed, and morals should be sustained; we require thought and pa.s.sion, as well as costume and the lively representation of conventional arrangements; and the thought and pa.s.sion will be the better for these accessories, for they will be relieved in the novel as they are relieved in life, and the whole will be more true.'

'But have you read that love scene, Henrietta? It appeared to me so ridiculous!'

'I never read love scenes,' said Henrietta Temple.

'Oh, I love a love story,' said Miss Grandison, smiling, 'if it be natural and tender, and touch my heart. When I read such scenes, I weep.'

'Ah, my sweet Katherine, you are soft-hearted.'

'And you, Henrietta, what are you?'

'Hard-hearted. The most callous of mortals.'

'Oh, what would Lord Montfort say?'

'Lord Montfort knows it. We never have love scenes.'

'And yet you love him?'

'Dearly; I love and esteem him.'

'Well,' said Miss Grandison, 'I may be wrong, but if I were a man I do not think I should like the lady of my love to esteem me.'

'And yet esteem is the only genuine basis of happiness, believe me, Kate. Love is a dream.'

'And how do you know, dear Henrietta?'

'All writers agree it is.'

'The writers you were just ridiculing?'

'A fair retort; and yet, though your words are the more witty, believe me, mine are the more wise.'

'I wish my cousin would wake from his dream,' said Katherine. 'To tell you a secret, love is the cause of his unhappiness. Don't move, dear Henrietta,' added Miss Grandison; 'we are so happy here;' for Miss Temple, in truth, seemed not a little discomposed.

'You should marry your cousin,' said Miss Temple.

'You little know Ferdinand or myself, when you give that advice,' said Katherine. 'We shall never marry; nothing is more certain than that.

In the first place, to be frank, Ferdinand would not marry me, nothing would induce him; and in the second place, I would not marry him, nothing would induce me.'

'Why not?' said Henrietta, in a low tone, holding her book very near to her face.

'Because I am sure that we should not be happy,' said Miss Grandison. 'I love Ferdinand, and once could have married him. He is so brilliant that I could not refuse his proposal. And yet I feel it is better for me that we have not married, and I hope it may yet prove better for him, for I love him very dearly. He is indeed my brother.'

'But why should you not be happy?' enquired Miss Temple.

'Because we are not suited to each other. Ferdinand must marry some one whom he looks up to, somebody brilliant like himself, some one who can sympathise with all his fancies. I am too calm and quiet for him. You would suit him much better, Henrietta.'

'You are his cousin; it is a misfortune; if you were not, he would adore you, and you would sympathise with him.'

'I think not: I should like to marry a very clever man,' said Katherine.

'I could not endure marrying a fool, or a commonplace person; I should like to marry a person very superior in talent to myself, some one whose opinion would guide me on all points, one from whom I could not differ.

But not Ferdinand; he is too imaginative, too impetuous; he would neither guide me, nor be guided by me.'

Miss Temple did not reply, but turned over a page of her book.

'Did you know Ferdinand before you met him yesterday at our house?'

enquired Miss Grandison, very innocently.

'Yes!' said Miss Temple.

'I thought you did,' said Miss Grandison, 'I thought there was something in your manner that indicated you had met before. I do not think you knew my aunt before you met her at Bellair House?'

'I did not.'

'Nor Sir Ratclifle?'

'Nor Sir Ratclifle.'

'But you did know Mr. Glas...o...b..ry?'

'I did know Mr. Glas...o...b..ry.'

'How very odd!' said Miss Grandison.

'What is odd?' enquired Henrietta.

'That you should have known Ferdinand before.'

'Not at all odd. He came over one day to shoot at papa's. I remember him very well.'

'Oh,' said Miss Grandison. 'And did Mr. Glas...o...b..ry come over to shoot?'

'I met Mr. Glas...o...b..ry one morning that I went to see the picture gallery at Armine. It is the only time I ever saw him.'

'Oh!' said Miss Grandison again, 'Armine is a beautiful place, is it not?'

'Most interesting.'

'You know the pleasaunce.'