yself; for I was not
accustomed to find in women or girls any power of self-control, or
strength of self-denial. As far as I knew them, the chance of a gossip
about their usually trivial secrets, their often very washy and paltry
feelings, was a treat not to be readily foregone.

The little Countess promised an exception: she sewed till she was tired
of sewing, and then she took a book.

As chance would have it, she had sought it in Dr. Bretton's own
compartment of the bookcase; and it proved to be an old Bretton
book--some illustrated work of natural history. Often had I seen her
standing at Graham's side, resting that volume on his knee, and reading
to his tuition; and, when the lesson was over, begging, as a treat,
that he would tell her all about the pictures. I watched her keenly:
here was a true test of that memory she had boasted would her
recollections now be faithful?

Faithful? It could not be doubted. As she turned the leaves, over her
face passed gleam after gleam of expression, the least intelligent of
which was a full greeting to the Past. And then she turned to the
title-page, and looked at the name written in the schoolboy hand. She
looked at it long; nor was she satisfied with merely looking: she
gently passed over the characters the tips of her fingers, accompanying
the action with an unconscious but tender smile, which converted the
touch into a caress. Paulina loved the Past; but the peculiarity of
this little scene was, that she _said_ nothing: she could feel without
pouring out her feelings in a flux of words.

She now occupied herself at the bookcase for nearly an hour; taking
down volume after volume, and renewing her acquaintance with each. This
done, she seated herself on a low stool, rested her cheek on her hand,
and thought, and still was mute.

The sound of the front door opened below, a rush of cold wind, and her
father's voice speaking to Mrs. Bretton in the hall, startled her at
last. She sprang up: she was down-stairs in one second.

"Papa! papa! you are not going out?"

"My pet, I must go into town."

"But it is too--_too_ cold, papa."

And then I heard M. de Bassompierre showing to her how he was well
provided against the weather; and how he was going to have the
carriage, and to be quite snugly sheltered; and, in short, proving that
she need not fear for his comfort.

"But you will promise to come back here this evening, before it is
quite dark;--you and Dr. Bretton, both