into the ordinary schoolboy--a very good thing for him no
doubt, though less beautiful than those Coombe fancies. And what were
they worth?

CHAPTER VII

Little specks of daily trouble--
Petty grievance, petty strife--
Filling up with drops incessant
To the brim the cup of life.

Deeper import have these trifles
Than we think or care to know:
In the air a feather floating,
Tells from whence the breezes blow.--REV. G. MONSELL

The first brightening of the orphaned house of Bankside had been in
Leonard's return. The weeks of his absence had been very sore ones to
Averil, while she commenced the round of duties that were a heavy
burthen for one so young, and became, instead of the petted favourite,
the responsible head of the house.

She was willing and glad to accept the care of her little
sisters--docile bright children--who were pleased to return to the
orderly habits so long interrupted, and were so intelligent, that her
task of teaching was a pleasant one; and almost motherly love towards
them grew up as she felt their dependence on her, and enjoyed their
caresses.

With Henry she had less in common. He expected of her what she had not
learnt, and was not willing to acquire. A man interfering in the
woman's province meets little toleration; and Henry was extremely
precise in his requirements of exact order, punctuality, and
excellence, in all the arrangements of his house. While breaking her
in to housekeeping, he made himself appear almost in the light of a
task-master--and what was worse, of a despised task-master. Averil
thought she could not respect a brother whose displeasure was
manifested by petulance, not sternness, and who cared not only about
his dinner, but about the tidy appearance of the drawing-room--nay, who
called that tasty which she thought vulgar, made things stiff where she
meant them to be easy and elegant, and prepared the place to be the
butt of Tom May's satire.

Henry was not a companion to her. His intellect was lower, his
education had not been of the same order, and he had not the manly
force of character that makes up for everything in a woman's eyes.
Where she had talents, he had pretensions--just enough to make his
judgments both conceited and irritating; and where her deeper thoughts
and higher aspirations were concerned, she met either a blank or a
growing jealousy of the influence of the clergy and of the May family.

Yet Henry Ward was re