clothes; as well as to that which had awakened the feminine element, and
removed that sense of not being like other women, which sometimes hangs
painfully about girls who have learned to think themselves plain or
awkward.

There were other causes why it should be a dreary winter to Ethel, under
the anxiety that strengthened by duration, and the strain of acting
cheerfulness for Margaret's sake. Even Mary was a care. Her round rosy
childhood had worn into height and sallowness, and her languor and
indifference fretted Miss Bracy, and was hunted down by Ethel, till
Margaret convinced her that it was a case for patience and tenderness,
which, thenceforth, she heartily gave, even encountering a scene
with Miss Bracy, who was much injured by the suggestion that Mary was
oppressed by perspective. Poor Mary, no one guessed the tears nightly
shed over Harry's photograph.

Nor could Ethel quite fathom Norman. He wore the dispirited, burdened
expression that she knew too well, but he would not, as formerly, seek
relief in confidence to her, shunning the being alone with her, and far
too much occupied to offer to walk to Cocksmoor. When the intelligence
came that good old Mr. Wilmot of Settlesham had peacefully gone to his
rest, after a short and painless illness, Tom was a good deal affected,
in his peculiar silent and ungracious fashion; but Norman did not seek
to talk over the event, and the feelings he had entertained two years
ago--he avoided the subject, and threw himself into the election matters
with an excitement foreign to his nature.

He was almost always at Abbotstoke, or attending George Rivers at the
committee-room at the Swan, talking, writing, or consulting, concocting
squibs, and perpetrating bons mots, that were the delight of friends and
the confusion of foes. Flora was delighted, George adored him, Meta's
eyes danced whenever he came near, Dr. Spencer admired him, and Dr.
Hoxton prophesied great things of him; but Ethel did not feel as if he
were the veritable Norman, and had an undefined sensation of discomfort,
when she heard his brilliant repartees, and the laughter with which he
accompanied them, so unlike his natural rare and noiseless laugh. She
knew it was false excitement, to drive away the suspense that none dared
to avow, but which did not press on them the less heavily for being
endured in silence. Indeed, Dr. May could not help now and then giving
way to outbursts of despondency, of which his frie