ng your excitement. You cannot feel a
fuller happiness than when you look back on those hours: at least, I
speak for myself."

"So," said Lady Gosstre, "Georgey did not waste her time after all,
Charlotte."

What the latter thought was: "She could not handle a sword or fire a
pistol. Would I have consented to be mere camp-baggage?" Yet no woman
admired Georgiana Ford so much. Disappointment vitiated many of Lady
Charlotte's first impulses; and not until strong antagonism had thrown
her upon her generosity could she do justice to the finer natures about
her. There was full life in her veins; and she was hearing the thirty
fatal bells that should be music to a woman, if melancholy music; and
she had not lived. Time, that sounded in her ears, as it kindled no
past, spoke of no future. She was in unceasing rivalry with all of her
sex who had a passion, or a fixed affection, or even an employment. A
sense that she was wronged by her fate haunted this lady. Rivalry on
behalf of a man she would have held mean--she would have plucked it from
her bosom at once. She was simply envious of those who in the face of
death could say, "I have lived." Pride, and the absence of any power of
self-inspection, kept her blind to her disease. No recollection gave her
boy save of the hours in the hunting-field. There she led gallantly; but
it was not because of leading that she exulted. There the quick blood
struck on her brain like wine, and she seemed for a time to have some
one among the crowns of life. An object--who cared how small?--was
ahead: a poor old fox trying to save his brush; and Charlotte would have
it if the master of cunning did not beat her. "It's my natural thirst
for blood," she said. She did not laugh as she thought now and then that
the old red brush dragging over grey dews toward a yellow yolk in the
curdled winter-morning sky, was the single thing that could make her
heart throb.

Brookfield was supported in its trial by the discomfiture of the
Tinleys. These girls, with their brother, had evidently plotted to 'draw
out' Mrs. Chump. They had asked concerning her, severally; and hearing
that she had not returned from town, had each shown a blank face, or had
been doubtful of the next syllable. Of Wilfrid, Emilia, and Mr. Pole,
question and answer were interchanged. "Wilfrid will come in a few
minutes. Miss Belloni, you know, is preparing for Italy. Papa? Papa,
I really do fear will not be able to join us." Such was Br