spring of life had begun again to flow, and with the flow returned the old desires and projects and plans, which had all become mere matters of indifference during the worst part of her illness. But as yet her bodily strength was not sufficient to be an agent to her energetic mind, and the difficulty of driving the ill- matched pair of body and will—the one weak and languid, the other strong and stern—made her ladyship often very irritable. Mrs. Gibson herself was not quite strong enough for a “souffre-douleur”; and the visit to the Towers was not, on the whole, quite so happy a one as she had anticipated. Lady Cuxhaven and Lady Harriet, each aware of their mother’s state of health and temper, but only alluding to it as slightly as was absolutely necessary in their conversations with each other, took care not to leave “Clare” too long with Lady Cumnor; but several times, when one or the other went to relieve guard, they found Clare in tears, and Lady Cumnor holding forth on some point on which she had been meditating during the silent hours of her illness, and on which she seemed to consider herself born to set the world to rights. Mrs. Gibson was always apt to consider these remarks as addressed with a personal direction at some error of her own, and defended the fault in question with a feeling of property in it, whatever it might happen to be. The second and the last day of her stay at the Towers, Lady Harriet came in, and found her mother haranguing in an excited tone of voice, and Clare looking submissive and miserable and oppressed.

“What’s the matter, dear mamma? Are not you tiring yourself with talking?”

“No, not at all! I was only speaking of the folly of people dressing above their station. I began by telling Clare of the fashions of my grandmother’s days, when every class had a sort of costume of its own—and servants did not ape tradespeople, nor tradespeople professional men, and so on—and what must the foolish woman do but begin to justify her own dress; as if I had been accusing her, or even thinking about her at all! Such nonsense! Really, Clare, your husband has spoilt you sadly, if you can’t listen to any one without thinking they are alluding to you. People may flatter themselves just as much by thinking that their faults are always present to other people’s minds, as if they believe that the world is always contemplating their individual charms and virtues.”

“I was told, Lady Cumnor, that this silk was reduced in price. I bought it at Waterloo House after the season was over,” said Mrs. Gibson, touching the very handsome gown she wore, in deprecation of Lady Cumnor’s angry voice, and blundering on to the very source of irritation.

“Again, Clare! How often must I tell you I had no thought of you or your gowns, or whether they cost much or little; your husband has to pay for them, and it is his concern if you spend more on your dress than you ought to do.”

“It was only five guineas for the whole dress,” pleaded Mrs. Gibson.

“And very pretty it is,” said Lady Harriet, stooping to examine it, and so hoping to soothe the poor aggrieved woman. But Lady Cumnor went on.

“No! you ought to have known me better by this time. When I think a thing, I say it out. I don’t beat about the bush. I use straightforward language. I will tell you where I think you have been in fault, Clare, if you like to know.” Like it or not, the plain speaking was coming now. “You have spoilt that girl of yours till she does not know her own mind. She has behaved abominably to Mr. Preston; and it is all in consequence of the faults in her education. You have much to answer for.”

“Mamma, mamma!” said Lady Harriet, “Mr. Preston did not wish it spoken about.” And at the same moment Mrs. Gibson exclaimed, “Cynthia—Mr. Preston!” in such a tone of surprise, that, if Lady Cumnor had been in the habit of observing the revelations made by other people’s tones and voices, she would have found out that Mrs. Gibson was ignorant of the affair to which she was alluding.

“As for Mr. Preston’s wishes, I do not suppose I am bound to regard them when I feel it my duty to reprove error,” said Lady Cumnor loftily to Lady Harriet. “And, Clare, do you mean to say that you are not aware that your daughter has been engaged to Mr. Preston for some time—years, I believe—and