iest rooms in the house, with
its light green paper, its French bed and toilet at one end, and the
book-case, table and writing-desk, footstool and armchair, at the other.

"I shall spend many hours alone here in the bright summer mornings,"
said Margaret. "Here I shall write my letters, and study, and think."

"And nod over your books, perhaps," said Maria. "These seem comfortable
arrangements for an old or infirm person; but I should be afraid they
would send you to sleep. You have had little experience of being alone:
do you know the strong tendency that solitary people have to napping?"

Margaret laughed. She had never slept in the daytime in her life,
except in illness. She could not conceive of it, in the case of a young
person, full of occupation, with a hundred things to think about, and
twenty books at a time that she wanted to read. She thought that
regular daily solitude must be the most delightful, the most improving
thing in the world. She had always envied the privilege of people who
could command solitude; and now, for the first time in her life, she was
going to enjoy it, and try to profit by it.

"You began yesterday, I think," said Maria. "How did you like it?"

"It was no fair trial. I felt restless at having the house in my
charge; and I was thinking of Hester perpetually; and then I did not
know but that some of the Greys might come in at any moment: and
besides, I was so busy considering whether I was making the most of the
precious hours, that I really did next to nothing all day."

"But you looked sadly tired at night, Miss Margaret," said Morris. "I
never saw you more fit for bed after any party or ball."

Maria smiled. She knew something of the fatigues, as well as the
pleasures, of solitude. Margaret smiled too; but she said it would be
quite another thing when the family were settled, and when it should
have become a habit to spend the morning hours alone; and to this Maria
fully agreed.

Morris thought that people's liking or not liking to be alone depended
much on their having easy or irksome thoughts in their minds. Margaret
answered gaily, that in that case, she was pretty sure of liking
solitude. She was made grave by a sigh and a shake of the head from
Morris.

"Morris, what do you mean?" said Margaret, apprehensively. "Why do you
sigh and shake your head? Why should not I have easy thoughts as often
as I sit in that chair?"

"We never know, Miss Margaret, my