and after conditions
have been confirmed and matured.

The stronger portion of Leslie's nature, which required abundant and
invigorating food, was slow of development; the lighter side flourished
in the silent, dull house, where nothing else courted the sunbeam. In
her childhood and girlhood, Leslie had gone out to school, and although
always somewhat marked and individual in character, she had companions,
friends, sufficient sympathy and intercourse for an independent, buoyant
nature at the most plastic period of its existence. This stage of life
was but lately left behind; Leslie had not long learnt that now she was
removed from classes and masters, and must in a great measure confine
her acquaintances to those who returned her visits at her father's
house; and as visitors put mamma and papa about, and did not suit their
habits, she must resign her little world, and be almost as quiet and
solitary as her elders. Leslie had just begun to sigh a little for the
old thronged, bustling class-rooms which she had lightly esteemed, and
was active by fits and starts in numerous self-adopted occupations which
could put former ones out of her head, and fill up the great blanks in
her time and thoughts, for she was not inclined to sit down under a
difficulty, and instinctively battled with it in a thousand ways.

Thus Leslie had her flower-painting--few natural flowers she saw, poor
girl--card boxes, worsted vases, eggshell baskets, embroidery pieces,
canary bird, and books--the last greedily devoured. She did not assist
her mother, because although their household was limited, Mrs. Bower's
quiet, methodical plans were perfect, and she gently declined all
interference with her daily round. Neither did Leslie work for her
father, because the professor would as soon have employed her canary
bird. She was not thoughtful and painstaking for the poor, because,
though accustomed to a species of almsgiving, she heard nothing, saw
nothing of nearer or higher association with her neighbours. Yet there
was capacity enough in that heart and brain for good or for evil.

So Leslie sat there, pausing in her sewing, and gazing idly at the sky,
with a girl's quick pensiveness and thick-coming fancies, as she mused.

How blue it was yonder! What glorious clouds! yet the world below was
rather stupid and tiresome, and it was hard to say what people toiled so
arduously for. There were other lands and other people: should she ever
see them? Surel