eanor ventured to remark.
"There is no way of putting experience into a young girl's head. It
would say little for her qualities if a girl could not make a generous
mistake."

"Such mistakes are not worthy of being called generous, as a rule. They
are too imbecile. That state of illusion is too contemptible. There is
very little danger of Cecily's seeing any one in a grossly false light."

Eleanor did not at once assent.

"You seem to doubt that?" added the other, with a searching look.

"I think she is as well guarded as a girl can be; but, as I said
before, education is no substitute for experience. Don't think me
captious, however. I sympathize entirely with the course you have
taken. If I had a daughter, I should like her to be brought up on the
same principles."

"Cecily is very mature for her age," continued Mrs. Lessingham, with
evident pleasure in stating and restating her grounds of confidence.
"She feels strongly, but never apart from judgment. Now and then she
astonishes me with her discernment of character; clearness of thought
seems almost to anticipate in her the experience on which you lay such
stress. Have you noticed her with Mr. Mallard? How differently many
girls would behave! But Cecily understands him so well; she knows he
thinks of her as a child, and nothing could be more simply natural than
her friendship for him. I suppose Mr. Mallard is one of the artists who
never marry?"

"I don't know him well enough to decide that," answered Eleanor, with a
curious smile.

It was in the evening of this day, when the Spences and Miriam were
sitting together after dinner, that a servant announced a visit of
Reuben Elgar, adding that he was in his sister's room. Miriam went to
join him.

"You can spare me a minute or two?" he asked cheerily, as she entered.

"Certainly. You are just back from Pompeii?"

"From Castellamare--from Sorrento the indescribable--from Amalfi the
unimaginable--from Salerno! Leave Naples without seeing those places,
and hold yourself for ever the most wretched of mortals! Old Mallard
forced me to go with him, and I am in his debt to eternity!"

This exalted manner of speech was little to Miriam's taste especially
from her brother. Sobriety was what she desired in him. It seemed a
small advantage that his extravagance should exhibit itself in this way
rather than in worse; the danger was still there.

"Sit down, and talk more quietly. You say Mr. Mallard _forced_ you to
g