lief--sweet-tempered as she was
when pleased--by a snap at others. For although she was not given, any
more than other young people are, to plaguesome self-inspection, she
could not help feeling that she was no longer the playful young Dolly
that she loved so well. A stronger, and clearer, yet more mysterious
will than her own had conquered hers; but she would not confess it, and
yield entire obedience; neither could she cast it off. Her pride still
existed, as strong as ever, whenever temper roused it; but there was too
much of vanity in its composition, and too little of firm self-respect.
Contempt from a woman she could not endure; neither from a man, if made
manifest; but Carne so calmly took the upper hand, without any show of
having it, that she fell more and more beneath his influence.

He, knowing thoroughly what he was about, did nothing to arouse
resistance. So far as he was capable of loving any one, he was now in
love with Dolly. He admired her quickness, and pretty girlish ways, and
gaiety of nature (so unlike his own), and most of all her beauty. He
had made up his mind that she should be his wife when fitted for that
dignity; but he meant to make her useful first, and he saw his way to do
so. He knew that she acted more and more as her father's secretary, for
she wrote much faster than her sister Faith, and was quicker in catching
up a meaning. Only it was needful to sap her little prejudices--candour,
to wit, and the sense of trust, and above all, patriotic feeling. He
rejoiced when he heard that Lady Scudamore was gone, and the Rector had
taken his wife and daughter for change of air to Tunbridge Wells,
Miss Twemlow being seriously out of health through anxiety about Mr.
Shargeloes. For that gentleman had disappeared, without a line or
message, just when Mr. Furkettle, the chief lawyer in the neighbourhood,
was beginning to prepare the marriage-settlement; and although his cook
and house-maid were furious at the story, Mrs. Blocks had said, and all
the parish now believed, that Sir Parsley Sugarloaf had flown away
to Scotland rather than be brought to book--that fatal part of the
Prayer-book--by the Rector and three or four brother clergymen.

This being so, and Frank Darling absorbed in London with the publication
of another batch of poems, dedicated to Napoleon, while Faith stood
aloof with her feelings hurt, and the Admiral stood off and on in the
wearisome cruise of duty, Carne had the coast unusual