n an access
of maternal tenderness; he was much too big to nestle gracefully in her
bosom, but that only made her seem younger, more flexible, fairer in her
tall, strong slimness. Her distinguished figure bent itself hither and
thither, but always in perfect freedom, as she romped with her children;
and there was another moment, when she came slowly down the room,
holding one of them in each hand and singing to them while they looked
up at her beauty, charmed and listening and a little surprised at such
new ways--a moment when she might have passed for some grave, antique
statue of a young matron, or even for a picture of Saint Cecilia. This
morning, more than ever, Laura was struck with her air of youth, the
inextinguishable freshness that would have made any one exclaim at her
being the mother of such bouncing little boys. Laura had always admired
her, thought her the prettiest woman in London, the beauty with the
finest points; and now these points were so vivid (especially her
finished slenderness and the grace, the natural elegance of every
turn--the fall of her shoulders had never looked so perfect) that the
girl almost detested them: they appeared to her a kind of advertisement
of danger and even of shame.

Miss Steet at last came back for the children, and as soon as she had
taken them away Selina observed that she would go over to Plash--just
as she was: she rang for her hat and jacket and for the carriage. Laura
could see that she would not give her just yet the advantage of a
retreat to her room. The hat and jacket were quickly brought, but after
they were put on Selina kept her maid in the drawing-room, talking to
her a long time, telling her elaborately what she wished done with the
things she had brought from Paris. Before the maid departed the carriage
was announced, and the servant, leaving the door of the room open,
hovered within earshot. Laura then, losing patience, turned out the maid
and closed the door; she stood before her sister, who was prepared for
her drive. Then she asked her abruptly, fiercely, but colouring with her
question, whether Captain Crispin had been in Paris. We have heard Mrs.
Berrington's answer, with which her strenuous sister was imperfectly
satisfied; a fact the perception of which it doubtless was that led
Selina to break out, with a greater show of indignation: 'I never heard
of such extraordinary ideas for a girl to have, and such extraordinary
things for a girl to talk abo