supériorité soit Léonine," says she. And never was better advice to those who, superior to their neighbours, yet wish to escape their censures.

"Well, I give Georgy leave," said Mr. Sandon, dogmatically: "it is good for girls to see a little of the world, but not too much!"

Georgy closed quietly with the permission, and expressed her satisfaction at the prospect of her visit. Going to Millthorpe stood to her in the place of balls, flirting, and all such female diversions; for none of which she had the least taste: that is to say, she firmly believed so. Mrs. Lewis, the mistress of Millthorpe Grange, was one of the few people whom Georgy knew; and the lady always remembered their acquaintanceship, and since Georgy had been grown up, generally asked her at least once a year. So the question of Georgy's visit was settled, and the conversation returned to its usual course.

One other person yet remains to be described, and the family party will be complete. Miss Sparrow, commonly called Aunt Sparrow, Mr. Sandon's aunt, and consequently Georgy's great-aunt. She was old and rich. Mrs. Sandon principally valued her for the use she might be to the children. Mr. Sandon had a good deal of reverence and affection for her, and acknowledged her goodness in a general way. Georgy, who was young and impatient, did not very deeply regard that gentle, seemingly passive amia

bility. "She was good and kind, but a little tiresome occasionally;"—and so she would have dismissed her. If Aunt Sparrow had known the way in which she was regarded by the three, it would not have altered her for one moment towards them, and she would not perhaps have thought herself entitled to more consideration. She had pleased Georgy by asking her to go back to London with her and pay her a visit; but such a needless, frivolous expense her uncle and aunt would not hear of: besides London was a bad place for girls, and even when given to understand that her going would cost them nothing, Aunt Jane would not hear of it, and had easily persuaded her husband that she was right.

"Well, when I'm married you'll ask me, aunt," whispered Georgy in a defiant undertone," when I'm married."

"Yes, dear, I will; but you know matrimony can't be all visiting and amusement."

"Of course not; I mean to set up a little Grainthorpe of my own, a well-ordered paradise" (mockingly); "but I'll get an outing sometimes," she added, in the true north-country chant.

"Don't be foolish, dear, and reckon upon marriage only as a means of

"No, dear aunt, certainly not:-shall I read to you? I know your eyes are weak to-night.”

"No, my dear, I am afraid I shall bore you."

"But I like your volume of sermons very much" (uttering the falsehood most energetically); for she felt remorseful at having sometimes been wearied and left her aunt alone over her knitting. None of the party were more grateful than Georgy when bedtime came, for she was half-asleep whilst still reading aloud. It was not often that she mentioned her engagement in joke; but now she was vexed at the refusal to let her visit her aunt, and lay down, restlessly whispering, "When I'm married, when I'm married!"-She had such a thirst for happiness. It seemed as if her longing could almost wrench from fate the arrears of life and love that were due to her. It was an undefined desire, and she honestly believed that mere freedom would satisfy it. There were friends to be made in the world; there was intellectual life and growth in the world; there was-she could not tell what-but she wished for it the more, because she did not know.

it was not Grainthorpe.

She could only tell that

The next few days passed away as many more had done. The house was very small; the dining-room and drawing-room occupied the whole front. Aunt Jane did not inhabit the drawing-room of a morning, but pervaded all parts of the house in her housekeeping and maternal capacity. When Georgy was not working, or acting as a sort of vice-housekeeper

(for Aunt Jane meant to do her duty by her, and to teach her all useful things), she sat alone in the drawing-room, reading or playing. This was the only quiet part of the day. In the afternoon she walked with Aunt Jane, and she was no longer alone. It was a very dull, comfortless existence that she led. Mornings were better than afternoons, for they were passed with Aunt Jane. Afternoons were quieter than evenings, for then she sat through many a conjugal dispute, stitching on with a dreary patience, and each day that she grew older feeling more and more out of place.

They did not want her: they could not want her. She had never received tenderness from either of them; but her uncle had been kind to her in all material things, and she was burdened with a sort of remorseful gratitude towards him: she did not know always how to express the gratitude, and she constantly reproached herself for not loving him better. He was an irritable, imperious man, not enduring that any one of his own family should have an opinion of their own; and yet Georgy's reserve and passiveness did not always please him: he would have taken contradiction better. She had the habit of being afraid of him, and all her efforts at approach only made her feel distinctly that they were far more familiar than intimate. She had no friends of her own age. Aunt Jane did not wish her to associate

much with the Eastham people, and the county people were not at much trouble in seeking Mrs. Sandon's acquaintance; so, beyond a few gentlemen of Mr. Sandon's age, they saw hardly any one. Georgy's only acquaintances were the Miss Macbeans, who patronized and protected her; but the young ladies did not in reality care much for each other: indeed Georgy's life could better be described in all things negatively than positively.