ing that he was getting into training. He
spent the evening in dwelling on Cecily Raymond, who seemed to have been
the cheerful guardian elder sister of a large family in narrow
circumstances, and as great a contrast to Mervyn himself as was poor
Lucilla to Robert; her homeliness and seriousness being as great
hindrances to the elder brother, as fashion and levity to the younger.
It was as if each were attracted by the indefinable essence, apart from
all qualities, that constitutes the self; and Haydn's air, learnt long
ago by Cecily as a surprise to her father on his birthday, had evoked
such a healthy shoot of love within the last twenty-four hours, that
Mervyn was quite transformed, though still rather unsuitably sensible of
his own sacrifice, and of the favour he was about to confer on Cecily in
entering on that inevitable period when he must cease to be a gentleman
at large.

On Monday he came down to breakfast ready for a journey, as Phoebe
concluded, to London. She asked if he would return by the next hunting
day. He answered vaguely, then rousing himself, said, 'I say, Phoebe,
you must write her a cordial sisterly sort of letter, you know; and you
might make Bertha do it too, for nobody else will.'

'I wrote to Juliana on Friday.'

'Juliana! Are you mad?'

'Oh! Miss Raymond! But you told me you had said nothing! You have not
had time since Friday night to get an answer.'

'Foolish child, no; but I shall be there to-night or to-morrow.'

'You are going to Sutton?'

'Yes; and, as I told you, I trust to you to write such a letter as to
make her feel comfortable. Well, what's the use of having a governess,
if you don't know how to write a letter?'

'Yes, Mervyn, I'll write, only I must hear from you first.'

'I hate writing. I tell you, if you write--let me see, on Wednesday, you
may be sure it is all over.'

'No, Mervyn, I will not be so impertinent,' said Phoebe, and the colour
rushed into her face as she recollected the offence that she had once
given by manifesting a brother's security of being beloved. 'It would be
insulting her to assume that she had accepted you, and write before I
knew, especially after the way you have been using her.'

'Pshaw! she will only want a word of kindness; but if you are so
fanciful, will it do if I put a cover in the post? There! and when you
get it on Wednesday morning, you write straight off to Cecily, and when
you have got the notion into my mother's und