stranger, jostled by the throng, may not notice that London is empty,
but his lordship, if he happens during the deserted period to pass
through, knows there is not a soul in town.

Miss Sommerton had many delusions, but fortunately for her peace of mind
she had never yet met a candid friend with courage enough to tell her
so. It would have required more bravery than the ordinary society person
possesses to tell Miss Sommerton about any of her faults. The young
gentlemen of her acquaintance claimed that she had no faults, and if her
lady friends thought otherwise, they reserved the expression of such
opinions for social gatherings not graced by the presence of Miss
Sommerton.

Eva Sommerton thought she was not proud, or if there was any tinge of
pride in her character, it was pride of the necessary and proper sort.

She also possessed the vain belief that true merit was the one
essential, but if true merit had had the misfortune to be presented
to Miss Sommerton without an introduction of a strictly unimpeachable
nature, there is every reason to fear true merit would not have had the
exquisite privilege of basking in the smiles of that young Bostonian.
But perhaps her chief delusion was the belief that she was an artist.
She had learned all that Boston could teach of drawing, and this thin
veneer had received a beautiful foreign polish abroad. Her friends
pronounced her sketches really wonderful. Perhaps if Miss Sommerton's
entire capital had been something less than her half-yearly income, she
might have made a name for herself; but the rich man gets a foretaste of
the scriptural difficulty awaiting him at the gates of heaven, when he
endeavours to achieve an earthly success, the price of which is hard
labour, and not hard cash.