as at Ullswater, and the
meeting under these dolefully changed conditions touched her best
feelings. Yet with her cousin she was reserved; her behaviour did not
bear out the evidence of latent tenderness and admiration contained in
that letter of hers which we saw. Annabel had looked for something
more. Just now she was longing for affection and sympathy, and Paula
was the only girl friend she had. But Paula would only speak of Mr.
Dalmaine and, absurdest thing, of politics. Annabel retired into
herself. She was glad to reach at length the quiet house by the sea,
glad to be near Mrs. Ormonde.

The circumstances of Annabel's early life had worked happily with her
inherited disposition. Her father, had he been free to choose, would
have planned her training differently, but in all likelihood with less
advantage than she derived from the compromise between her parents.
Though at the time of her mother's death she still waited for formal
recognition as a member of Society, being but sixteen, she was of riper
growth than the majority of young ladies who in that season were being
led forth for review and to perfect themselves in arts of civilisation.
From her mother she had learnt, directly or indirectly, much of that
little world which deems the greater world its satellite; from her
father she received love of knowledge and reverence for the nobler
modes of life. She was marked by a happy balance of character; all that
came to her from without she seemed naturally to assimilate in due
proportions; her tastes were those of an imaginative temper, tending to
joyousness but susceptible of grave impressions. She relished books,
yet never allowed them to hold her from bodily exercise; she knew the
happiness of solitude, yet could render welcomest companionship; at one
time she conversed earnestly with those older and wiser than herself,
at another she was the willing playmate of laughing girls. She was
loved by those who could by no possibility have loved one another, and
in turn she seemed to discover with sure insight what there was of
strength and beauty in the most diverse characters. With this breadth
of sympathy she developed a self-consciousness of the kind to which
most women never attain; habitually studying herself, and making
comparison of herself with others, she cultivated her understanding and
her emotions simultaneously.

Her time of serious study only began when she exchanged London for the
mountain solitude. Hen