Abbeychurch
ock; 'and I am not sorry for it,' said she, 'for I want to have you all to myself at
t to such treatm
so sparing of that useful commodity as I was yesterday evening. And now, Anne, I am going to beg your pardon for being so exce
when you set up your bristles, and I do. Besides, I was sorry for Lu
y!' said
t is thine,
lot is
heek, and the downcast look of her eye, when her mother and sister expose themse
'how differently you
I intended to conclude the Consecration day; and now I am in my senses, I am very sorry I behaved as I did. But, Anne, though I hereby retract all I said in dispraise of
pinion, my dear?'
ay why should not I have a deliberate opinion, as well as Hann
of the world were of your deliberate opinion, ther
wasted upon Mrs. Dale, obliged to listen to the dullest stuff that ever was invented, and poor
'but I should have thought that you at least had little reas
izabeth; 'but you know, she or my uncle, or aunt, or Papa, are generally forc
lements. Do not you remember Juno's visit to AEolus, where he is opening the door of a little corner cupboard where he keeps the puff-cheeked winds lock
do mean, Anne, what the great law of society is. Now, do not put on that absu
us hear,'
id Elizabeth. 'There is one level of conversation, fit for the meanest capacity; and w
y of clever people talk, about sensible things too, and never did I he
o do so,' said Elizabeth, 'but
mean by peopl
place gentry, who make up the m
y?' sai
ey?' said
e, 'but I am sure the people whom we see oftenest at home, are such as I
d; here am I in Abbeychurch, and must make the best of it. I must be as polite a
as you find being in company. Mamma has always wished me to remember, that acquiring knowledge
d not do for everyb
plainer, if you remember on what authority it is said that
t Christian love is a very differen
earing and forbearing, as
enough,' said Elizabeth
e person to say
at is because I despise it. It is such folly to sit a w
restraint, and listening to what is not amusing, f
to please others, it is only that they may think you well
our father and mo
e done,' said Elizabeth; 'it is the wa
rial which has been ord
he time that you have the best of the argument
more enjoyment in the present order of things, tha
ens better with all the disasters that seem to befall
y are a much more reasonable creat
ple who cannot employ themselves, and must talk, and have nothing to talk of but their neighbours; but only think of those wretched fain
loved old people, to whom you give a license to gossip,' said Anne; 'and you do not wish to condem
id Elizabeth, 'but then I ca
hat it is better to be wicked than stupid; at least, you rea
ly as I do any other important thing, that mere intellect is utterly worthless, I cannot feel it; it bewitches me a
ur beginning to grow old and stupid, is your doing such
n this day the rain was so violent, that of all the party at the Vicarage, the
d also of their wonder and regret at Rupert's absence, Anne said, 'How strange it seems to lose sight of you and Papa as I have done ever since I have
joying yourself, my de
'Lizzie is more delightful
aid Lady Merton, smiling; 'do you mean in
when we are alone together. Sometimes when the others are there, she gets vexed, and
about her before,' said Lady Merton
did make a very ridiculous oration about officers and flirtations; but Lizzie, instead of putting a s
aid she will make herself absurd and disagreeable by this s
tired and very cross yesterday evening. But, Mamma, she also said that she thinks the time she spends in comp
he usual complement of dull people, and where her father's situation prevents him from associating only with those whom he would
dged this morning,' said Anne, 'and rather unkind to Helen. B
nd was quite satisfied with her mother's displeasure
hink of Helen?' as
e least able to enter into a joke. But then she said some very sensible things. Lizzie said she wondered what we should think of her. She th
le person, and has in reality, I believe, plenty of good sense; but she has allowed herself to fall into an exaggerated sty
n wrote to you about Rupert, and wh
though I believe the kind epithets she lavished upon me would have been enough to stock two or three moderate friendships. We all used to walk together, and spend at least one evening in the week together. One evening, y
, she would have said the same thing; she would have taken i
ed at him. She said nothing at the time; but next morning arrived a note to me, to entreat me to find out what her darling Henry could possibly have done to offend dearest Katherine Merton, for she should be wretched till she understood it, and Katherine had for
' exclaimed Anne; 'and
consultation, I was deputed to Helen with many assurances that Katherine was very sorry, she could not exactly tell why, but for whatever had grieved Helen; and after
n it seems to me that Mrs. Staunton deserved all the blame for her excessive
of making mountains of mole-hills, they cannot see anything as it really is. I thought Katherine quite in the right, as you do now, but I
an excessively silly person. Of course one would wish to keep from hurting people's feelings, b
hat as long as you do what is commanded, set a watch before your lips,
ut then I hardly know how to do so thoroughly. And I think sensitiveness is
then, Anne,' said Lady Merton. 'And now that you have fitted the moral to
ed if half the world were like her, I should b
u going to do?'
oom,' said Anne; 'I had a special
beth's desk, with a broadly ruled paper before her, on the top of which the words, 'My dear Horace, St. Austin's Church was consecrated yesterday,' were to be seen in fair round hand. No more was visible, for the little girl laughingly laid down her rosy cheek, and all her light wavy curls, flat upon the letter, as Anne advanced and made a stealthy attempt to profit by the intelligence she was sending to her brother. Edward was standing by Elizabeth, reading Mrs. Trimmer's Fabulous Histories, for, though five years old, he made very slow progress in English literature, be
beth was forced to call him to order. Anne thought it best to leave the room, and Helen followed he
Helen,' said Anne; 'I should like very
ome up to my room? I keep all my own thi
ics?' inqu
a,' said Helen; 'I think the
ndeed!' s
am sure she does to me, and she never likes anything I do. If there is any li
anything you do, you are sure it is really very good.
ng daphne of Helen's, and a verbena, and a few geranium cuttings which she had brought from Dykelands, looking very miserable under cracked tumblers and stemless wine-glasses. On a small round table were, very prettily arranged, various little knicknacks and curiosities, which Elizabeth always laughed at, such as a glass ship, which was surrounded with miniature watering-pots, humming-tops, knives and forks, a Tonbridge-ware box, a gold-studded horn bonbonniere, a Breakwater-marble ruler, severa
hop Wilson!' exclaimed she,
me before I left Dykelands. She said that perhaps she should not see me again
yours too?' said Anne; 'what a pretty
ve me the pretty forget-me-not brooch I wore yesterday. Y
ane, both which specimens of art Anne tried hard to admire for Helen's sake, but could not find it in her heart to do so. Helen's own drawings, which were landscapes, gave more promise of improvement, and displayed a good
that I could gather them as I stood in my room. That room is still to be called Helen's. But now, Anne, do you think
ow must have deceived you.' And with a little
, while taking out India-rubber and pencil to rectify the mistake, 'I used to draw a great deal at dear Dykelands; we had a sketching master, and used to go out with him twice a w
ling, 'you speak as if you n
d I do seem rather silly about dear
e Highlands, my h
Highlands, gone
izzie, and sai
Dykelands, your h
Dykelands, gone c
e. And it was before Horace went to school, and he would do n
d not hel
u only knew how happy I was at Dykelands, and how deso
said Anne incredulously; she could
nt house in the country?' said Helen; 'you like Me
Anne; 'but then Mer
en. 'I believe it is very wrong to be disc
do you mean?' exclaim
ow how I feel here. At Dykelands I felt that people liked me and were pleased with m
cried Anne, 'th
said poor Helen,
'what you are accusing them of. No
,' said Helen; 'but I am sure I am of
g away as to have lost all your old home occupatio
ent to Dykelands, at least none worth having, and now I cannot make myself new ones.
cousin's avowal of dislike of home, 'I will tell you what I think Mamma would say to you. I think you used
upted Helen, who had lately felt
d so does everyone, a
thought she considered me
She said you were almost all she could wish in a sister, and that you
'she does not shew it; she is always m
s,' said Anne; 'but that is no p
ng that I say, or take interest in a
st month she could think of nothing but the Consecration, and Horace's going to school. Now a
radicts every word
was the fact. 'She only likes an argument, which sharpens your wits, and does no harm, if both sides
nyone I ever saw, even than Fanny Staunton, and Papa says her patience and diligence with Ho
choose their friends only for
hey ought, but Lizzie does. You would no
r that you can be her friend without being
, how happy we should be! if she would but talk to me of her own concerns,
mber that she has never been ther
, and I at home, I should have listened for her sake, besi
answered, 'And for that very reason, and for your sake too, Helen, she will delight to hear about Mrs. Staunton when you are quiet together, if you do not give her too much at a ti
she would probably have found another sorrow to lament over, if at t
ad met with since she had left Dykelands, and it atoned in her mind for various little thoughtless ways of Anne's, which had wounded her in former years, and which she
s as really confidential, if not expressly so, and resolved to mention them to no one but Lady Merton, and to limit her attempts at being useful to bringing the two sisters before each other in their most amiable light, and at any rate to avoid saying anything that could possibly occasion a discussion between