lotson's grey parrot had called "Clarissa" a dozen times at
least, and was listening with his cunning head on one side for footsteps
on the stairs. Breakfast was ready; an urn, shaped something like a
sepulchral monument, was steaming on the table, and near it stood an old
china jar filled with monthly roses. It was a warm, bright morning--that
twenty-ninth of August in the year 1782. The windows at each end of the
room were wide open, but scarcely a breath of air wandered in, or
stirred the lilac bushes in the garden. For the Tillotsons' house could
boast of a respectable strip of ground, although it stood in a street in
Portsea.

At a quarter past eight Clarissa Tillotson came downstairs, and entered
the room with a quick, firm step, taking no notice of the parrot's
salutation. She was a tall, fair girl of nineteen; her hair, worn
according to the fashion of that period, in short curls, was almost
flaxen; her eyes were clear blue, her features regular, and, but for a
certain hardness and sternness about the mouth, she might have been
pronounced beautiful. She was dressed in a short-waisted gown of white
muslin, with a blue girdle; her bodice was cut square, leaving her neck
uncovered; her tight sleeves reached to the wrists. The gown was so
scanty, and the skirt clung so closely to her figure, that it made her
appear even taller than she really was. And at this day, on the wall of
a modern London mansion, Clarissa's grandchildren and
great-grandchildren behold her in a tarnished gilt frame, habited in
the very costume which she wore on that memorable morning.

"Good-morning, Anthony," she said stiffly, as a young man, two years
older than herself, made his appearance.

"Good-morning, sister," he answered in a cheery tone, drawing a step
nearer as if he meant to give her a kiss. But Clarissa drew up her
stately figure to its full height, and turned quickly to the table.

Her brother coloured with annoyance. There had been a quarrel between
them on the preceding day, and Anthony was willing to make the first
advance towards reconciliation. But he saw that Clarissa intended to
keep him at a distance, and he knew the obstinacy of her nature too well
to renew his attempt. He took his seat with a sigh, thinking how bright
the home-life would be if the cloud of her unyielding temper did not too
frequently darken the domestic sunshine.

"I find that father is not well enough to come down yet," he said at
last, breaking a