This sweetness was altogether lacking to her brother. And her face was
a true index of her character. Again, who shall say why the brother
and sister had become so opposite to each other; whether they would
have been thus different had both been taken away as infants from
their father's and mother's training, or whether the girl's virtues
were owing altogether to the lower place which she had held in her
parent's heart? She, at any rate, had not been spoilt by a title, by
the command of money, and by the temptations of too early acquaintance
with the world. At the present time she was barely twenty-one years
old, and had not seen much of London society. Her mother did not
frequent balls, and during the last two years there had grown upon
them a necessity for economy which was inimical to many gloves and
costly dresses. Sir Felix went out of course, but Hetta Carbury spent
most of her time at home with her mother in Welbeck Street.
Occasionally the world saw her, and when the world did see her the
world declared that she was a charming girl. The world was so far
right.

But for Henrietta Carbury the romance of life had already commenced in
real earnest. There was another branch of the Carburys, the head
branch, which was now represented by one Roger Carbury, of Carbury
Hall. Roger Carbury was a gentleman of whom much will have to be said,
but here, at this moment, it need only be told that he was
passionately in love with his cousin Henrietta. He was, however,
nearly forty years old, and there was one Paul Montague whom Henrietta
had seen.