r regular reading with her father had ceased,
and she was left to direct her studies as she thought best. Mr. Campion
was almost entirely absorbed in the prospects of his son, and if Lettice
needed his assistance she had to ask for it, often more than once. The
consequence was that she soon gave up asking, and her mind, left to its
own devices, gradually found its true bent. She did not read much more
Latin or Greek, but devoured all the Modern literature that came in her
way. After that she began to write--not fiction in the first instance,
but more or less solid essays on criticism and social philosophy,
following the pattern of certain writers in the half-crown monthly
magazines, which her father was wont to take in. If she had known that
the time would come when she would have to earn her living by her pen,
she could scarcely have adopted a better plan to prepare herself for the
task.

In the first instance, whatever she did in this way had been for her own
pleasure and distraction, without any clear idea of turning her
abilities to practical account. She had no inclination for an idle life,
but there was a limited period during which it rested with her father to
say what her occupation as a woman should be. When Sidney went to
Cambridge, Lettice had entreated that she might be sent to Girton or
Newnham; but the young Scholar of Trinity had fought shy of the notion,
and it was dropped at once. That, indeed, was the beginning of Lettice's
isolation--the beginning of a kind of mental estrangement from her
brother, which the lapse of time was to widen and perpetuate.

Mr. Campion and his wife were by no means unkind to their daughter; they
simply put Sydney first in all their plans and anticipations of the
future. Her education was supposed to be complete; her lot was to be
cast at home, and not in the rough outer world, where men compete and
struggle for the mastery. If she had complained, they might not have
been shocked, but they would have been immeasurably astonished. The
rector had given her an excellent training, and though his strongest
motive was the desire to stimulate and encourage his son, no doubt he
had her interests in view at the same time. But when he finished with
Sydney he finished with Lettice, and it never occurred to him that there
was any injustice in suddenly withdrawing from her the arm on which he
had taught her to lean.

She did not complain. Yet as time went on she could not shut her eyes