ed at her
writing-table, busy with her correspondence. The question of the new
gin-palace was not yet decided, and she had been in the middle of a
letter of encouragement to her agents on the subject, reminding them
that, even though the licence was granted, the world would still go on
all the same, and that the worst possibilities must be encountered,
when Jack the prodigal made his appearance, with all the tokens of
reformation and repentance about him, to throw himself upon the
Christian charity of his relations. A penitent sinner was too tempting a
bait for even Miss Leonora's good sense to withstand, and she had
postponed her letter-writing to hear his explanations. But Jack had told
his story by this time, and had explained how much he wanted to
withdraw out of the world in which he had been led astray, and how sick
he was of all its whirl of temptations and disappointment; and Miss
Leonora had returned to her letter when her younger nephew arrived. As
for Miss Wentworth, she was seated placidly in her usual easy-chair,
smiling with equable smiles upon both the young men, and lifting her
beautiful old cheek for Frank to kiss, just as she had lifted it to
Jack. It was Miss Dora who was most shaken out of her allegiance; she
who had always made Frank her special charge. Though she had wept
herself into a day's headache on his behalf so short a time ago, aunt
Dora for a moment had allowed the more effusive prodigal to supersede
Frank. Instead of taking him into her arms as usual, and clinging to
him, she only put the hand that held the eau-de-Cologne over his
shoulder as she kissed him. Jack, who had been so dreadfully,
inexpressibly wicked, and who had come back to his aunts to be converted
and restored to his right mind, was more interesting than many curates.
She sat down again by her penitent as soon as she had saluted his
brother; and even Miss Leonora, when she paused in her letter, turned
her eyes towards Jack.

"So Gerald is actually going over to Rome," said the strong-minded
aunt. "I never expected anything else. I had a letter from Louisa
yesterday, asking me to use my influence: as if I had any influence
over your brother! If a silly wife was any justification for a man
making an idiot of himself, Gerald might be excused; but I suppose the
next thing we shall hear of will be that you have followed him, Frank.
Did you hear anything further about Janet and that lover of hers? In a
large family like ours th