real pleasure to see a hearty appetite. Young men, I know it for a
certainty, never quite like us to be so human. Ah! which is right?
I would not miss the faith in our nobler essence which Charles has.
But, if it nobler? One who has lived longer in the world ought to know
better, and Mr. Pollingray approves of naturalness in everything. I have
now seen through Charles's eyes for several months; so implicitly that I
am timid when I dream of trusting to another's judgement. It is,
however, a fact that I am not quite natural with Charles.

Every day Mr. Pollingray puts on evening dress out of deference to his
sister. If young men had these good habits they would gain our respect,
and lose their own self-esteem less early.

After dinner I sang. Then Mr. Pollingray read an amusing essay to us,
and retired to his library. Miss Pollingray sat and talked to me of
her brother, and of her nephew--for whom it is that Mr. Pollingray is
beginning to receive company, and is going into society. Charles's
subsequently received letter explained the 'receive company.' I could
not comprehend it at the time.

'The house has been shut up for years, or rarely inhabited by us for more
than a month in the year. Mr. Pollingray prefers France. All his
asociations, I may say his sympathies, are in France. Latterly he seems
to have changed a little; but from Normandy to Touraine and Dauphiny--we
had a triangular home over there. Indeed, we have it still. I am never
certain of my brother.'

While Miss Pollingray was speaking, my eyes were fixed on a Vidal crayon
drawing, faintly coloured with chalks, of a foreign lady--I could have
sworn to her being French--young, quite girlish, I doubt if her age was