BEGINNING THE WORLD.


"Who on earth was that man you were talking to, Clary?" asked the Reverend
Mathew Oliver, when he had seen his niece's luggage carried off to a fly,
and was conducting her to that vehicle. "Is it any one you know?"

"O, no, uncle; only a gentleman who travelled in the same carriage with me
from London. He was very kind."

"You seemed unaccountably familiar with him," said Mr. Oliver with an
aggrieved air; "you ought to be more reserved, my dear, at your age. A
young lady travelling alone cannot be too careful. Indeed, it was very
wrong of your father to allow you to make this long journey alone. Your
aunt has been quite distressed about it."

Clarissa sighed faintly; but was not deeply concerned by the idea of her
aunt's distress. Distress of mind, on account of some outrage of propriety
on the part of her relatives, was indeed almost the normal condition of
that lady.

"I travelled very comfortably, I assure you, uncle Oliver," Clarissa
replied. "No one was in the least rude or unpleasant. And I am so glad to
come home--I can scarcely tell you how glad--though, as I came nearer and
nearer, I began to have all kinds of fanciful anxieties. I hope that all is
well--that papa is quite himself."

"O, yes, my dear; your papa is--himself," answered the parson, in a tone
that implied that he did not say very much for Mr. Lovel in admitting that