ocile at home, and they do what they like with her. It seems to me that
the uncle and aunt are a good deal shrewder than the London public; it is
borne in upon me by various indications that they know exactly what their
niece's popularity depends on, and that it very possibly may not be a
long-lived one. Accordingly, they have determined on two things: first,
that she shall make as much money for the family as can by any means be
made; and, secondly, that she shall find her way into London society, and
secure, if possible, a great _parti_ before the enthusiasm for her has
had time to chill. One hears various stories of the uncle, all in this
sense; I cannot say how true they are.

'However, the upshot of the supper-party was that next day Wallace,
Forbes, and I met at Mrs. Stuart's house, and formed a Sunday League
for the protection of Miss Bretherton from her family; in other words,
we mean to secure that she has occasional rest and country air on
Sunday--her only free day. Mrs. Stuart has already wrung out of Mrs.
Worrall, by a little judicious scaring, permission to carry her off for
two Sundays--one this month and one next--and Miss Bretherton's romantic
side, which is curiously strong in her, has been touched by the
suggestion that the second Sunday should be spent at Oxford.

'Probably for the first Sunday--a week hence--we shall go to Surrey. You
remember Hugh Farnham's property near Leith Hill? I know all the farms
about there from old shooting days, and there is one on the edge of some
great commons, which would be perfection on a May Sunday. I will write
you a full account of our day. The only rule laid down by the League is
that things are to be so managed that Miss Bretherton is to have no
possible excuse for fatigue so long as she is in the hands of the
society.

'My book goes on fairly well. I have been making a long study of De
Musset, with the result that the poems seem to me far finer than I had
remembered, and the _Confessions d' un Enfant du Siecle_ a miserable
performance. How was it it impressed me so much when I read it first? His
poems have reminded me of you at every step. Do you remember how you used
to read them aloud to our mother and me after dinner, while the father
had his sleep before going down to the House?'

Ten days later Kendal spent a long Monday evening in writing the
following letter to his sister:--

'Our yesterday's expedition was, I think, a great success. Mrs. Stuart
was