e clouds.'

'Of course,' said Anne, 'you really are a much more reasonable creature
than you pretend to be, Lizzie.'

'Am I?' said Elizabeth. 'Well, I will just tell you my great horror,
and I suppose you will laugh at me. I can endure gossip for old people
who cannot employ themselves, and must talk, and have nothing to talk
of but their neighbours; but only think of those wretched _faineants_
who go chattering on, wasting their own time and other people's, doing
no good on the face of the earth, and a great deal of harm.'

'But these unfortunates are probably quite as unable to talk on any
very wise subjects, as your beloved old people, to whom you give a
license to gossip,' said Anne; 'and you do not wish to condemn them to
perpetual silence. They are most likely to be estimable people, who
ought to be amused.'

'Estimable--yes, perhaps,' said Elizabeth, 'but then I cannot esteem a
silly gossip.'

'Why, Lizzie,' cried Anne, 'you are still at the old story that it is
better to be wicked than stupid; at least, you reason upon that
foundation, though you do not really think so.'

'I believe,' said Elizabeth, 'that there must be some great crook in my
mind; for though I know and believe as firmly as I do any other
important thing, that mere intellect is utterly worthless, I cannot
feel it; it bewitches me as beauty does some people, and I suppose
always will, till I grow old and stupid, or get my mind into better
order.'

'Really,' said Anne, 'I think the strongest proof of your beginning to
grow old and stupid, is your doing such a very common-place thing, as
to abuse honest gossip.'

There was service at St. Mary's Church on Wednesday and Friday
mornings; but on this day the rain was so violent, that of all the
party at the Vicarage, the Mertons, and Elizabeth, Katherine, and
Helen, alone ventured to go to church.

When they returned, Anne followed her mother to her room, to talk over
the events of the previous day. After much had been said of the
Consecration, and also of their wonder and regret at Rupert's absence,
Anne said, 'How strange it seems to lose sight of you and Papa as I
have done ever since I have been here! Mamma, I have scarcely been
with you at all, and never see Papa but when he is talking to Uncle
Woodbourne, and everyone else is in the room.'

'But I hope you are enjoying yourself, my dear?' said Lady Merton.

'Oh yes, Mamma,' cried Anne; 'Lizzie is more delightful than ever, when