Catherine and Mabel are to be strongly individual. In any room they are
to be noticeable. Little hermits, now, some day they shall shine. They
are both clever, just clever enough for my purpose. Catherine might with
advantage be a shade less beautiful, but Mabel will, I am convinced,
fulfil all my expectations. Then, if only Loftie," but here Mrs. Bertram
sighed. She was returning from her visit to Mrs. Meadowsweet, walking
slowly down the long avenue which led to the Manor. This avenue was kept
in no order; its edges were not neatly cut, and weeds appeared here and
there through its scantily gravelled roadway. The grass parterre round
the house, however, was smooth as velvet, and interspersed with gay
flower-beds. It looked like a little agreeable oasis in the middle of a
woodland, for the avenue was shaded by forest trees, and the house
itself had a background of two or three acres of an old wood.

Mrs. Bertram was tired, and walked slowly. She did not consider herself
a proud woman, but in this she was mistaken. Every line of her upright
figure, each glance of her full, dark eyes, each word that dropped from
her lips spoke of pride both of birth and position. She often said to
herself, "I am thankful that I don't belong to the common folk; it would
grate on my nerves to witness their vulgarities,--their bad taste would
torture me; their want of refinement would act upon my nature like a
blister. But I am not proud, I uphold my dignity, I respect myself and
my family, but with sinful, unholy pride I have no part."

This was by no means the opinion held of her, however, by the Northbury
folk. They had hailed her advent with delight; they had witnessed her
arrival with the keenest, most absorbing interest, and, to the horror of
the good lady herself, had one and all called on her. She was petrified
when this very natural event happened. She had bargained for a life of
retirement for herself and her girls. She had never imagined that