means as prosperously as they had done in the days of the old squire.

In the first twelve years of their marriage, children came fast into
the nursery at Greshamsbury. The first that was born was a boy; and in
those happy halcyon days, when the old squire was still alive, great
was the joy at the birth of an heir to Greshamsbury; bonfires gleamed
through the country-side, oxen were roasted whole, and the customary
paraphernalia of joy, usual to rich Britons on such occasions were gone
through with wondrous eclat. But when the tenth baby, and the ninth
little girl, was brought into the world, the outward show of joy was
not so great.

Then other troubles came. Some of these little girls were sickly, some
very sickly. Lady Arabella had her faults, and they were such as were
extremely detrimental to her husband's happiness and her own; but that
of being an indifferent mother was not among them. She had worried her
husband daily for years because he was not in Parliament, she had
worried him because he would not furnish his house in Portman Square,
she had worried him because he objected to have more people carried
every winter at Greshamsbury Park than the house would hold; but now
she changed her tune and worried him because Selina coughed, because
Helena was hectic, because poor Sophy's spine was weak, and Matilda's
appetite was gone.

Worrying from such causes was pardonable it will be said. So it was;
but the manner was hardly pardonable. Selina's cough was certainly not
fairly attributable to the old-fashioned furniture in Portman Square;
nor would Sophy's spine have been materially benefited by her father
having a seat in Parliament; and yet, to have heard Lady Arabella
discussing those matters in family conclave, one would have thought