opinion, 'St. Erme's' remarks on it were certain to be brought to her
the next day; if a liking or a wish, he was instantly taking measures
for its gratification. She might try to keep him at a distance,
but where was the use of it when, if his moustached self was safely
poetizing in the Black Forest, his double in blue muslin was ever at her
elbow?

By and by it was no longer a moustached self. The ornaments were shaved
off, and she heartily wished them on again. What could be said when Lucy
timidly begged to know how she liked the change in St. Erme's face, and
whether she shared her regrets for his dear little moustache? Alas! such
a sacrifice gave him a claim, and she felt as if each departed hair was
a mesh in the net to ensnare her liberty.

And what could she say when Lucy WOULD talk over his poems, and try to
obtain her sympathy in the matter of that cruel review which had cut
the poor little sister to the heart? It had been so sore a subject in
London, that she could not then bear to speak of it, and now, treating
it like a personal attack on his character, she told how 'beautifully
St. Erme bore it,' and wanted Miss Martindale to say how unjust
and shocking it was. Yet Miss Martindale actually, with a look
incomprehensible to poor Lucy, declared that there was a great deal of
truth in it.

However, in process of time, Lucy came back reporting that her brother
thought so too, and that he had gathered many useful hints from it; but
that he did not mean to attend to poetry so much, he thought it time
to begin practical life; and she eagerly related his schemes for being
useful and distinguishing himself.

It was not easy to help replying and commenting on, or laughing at,
plans which showed complete ignorance of English life, and then Theodora
found herself drawn into discussions with Lord St. Erme himself, who
took her suggestions, and built his projects with a reference to her, as
his understood directress and assistant; till she grew quite frightened
at what she had let him take for granted, and treated him with a fresh
fit of coldness and indifference, soon thawed by his sister. She could
not make up her mind to the humiliating confession by which alone she
could have dismissed him, and the dominion she should enjoy with him
appeared more and more tempting as she learnt to know him better, and
viewed him as a means of escape from her present life. If it had not
been for recollections of Violet, she would