with more success, till tea time. This was his only resource against the
unpleasantness of the day. The others were nowise particularly weighed
down by it, and the less that Cornelius was so little in the room,
haunting the window with his hands in his pockets.

When tea was over, he rose and sauntered once more to the window, the
only outlook he ever frequented.

"Hullo!" he cried, turning from it quickly. "I say, Hester! here's a
lark! the sun's shining as if his grandmother had but just taught him
how! The rain's over, I declare--at least for a quarter of an hour!
Come, let's have a walk. We'll go and hear the band in the
castle-gardens. I don't think there's any thing going on at the theatre,
else I would take you there."

The sight of the sun revives both men and midges.

"I would rather walk," said Hester. "It is seldom one sees good acting
in the provinces. At best there is but one star. I prefer a jewel to a
gem, and a decent play to a fine part."

"Hester," said Cornelius with reproof, "I believe you think it a fine
thing to be hard to please! I know a fellow that calls it a kind of
suicide. To allow a spot to spoil your pleasure in a beauty is to be too
fond of perfection."

"No, Corney," answered his sister, "that is hardly my position. What I
would say is rather, that one point of excellence is not enough to make
a whole beautiful--a face, or a play--or a character."