been a sort of
hereditary education among the Newcomes for three generations, beginning
with Jason, and ending with Seneca; and, as the latter was at the bar, I
had occasionally been thrown into the society of both brother and
sister. The latter, indeed, used to be fond of visiting the Nest, as my
house was familiarly called, Ravensnest being its true name, whence
those of the "patent" and village; and as Opportunity had early
manifested a partiality for my dear old grandmother, and not less dear
young sister, who occasionally passed a few weeks with me during the
vacations, more especially in the autumns, I had many occasions of being
brought within the influence of her charms--opportunities that, I feel
bound to state, Opportunity did not neglect. I have understood that her
mother, who bore the same name, had taught Ovid the art of love by a
very similar demonstration, and had triumphed. That lady was still
living, and may be termed Opportunity the Great, while the daughter can
be styled Opportunity the Less. There was very little difference between
my own years and those of the young lady; and, as I had last passed
through the fiery ordeal at the sinister age of twenty, there was not
much danger in encountering the risk anew, now I was five years older.
But I must return to my uncle and the letter of Miss Henrietta
Coldbrooke.

"Here it is, Hugh," cried my guardian, gaily; "and a capital letter it
is! I wish I could read the whole of it to you; but the two girls made
me promise never to show their letters to any one, which could mean only
you, before they would promise to write anything to me beyond
commonplaces. Now, I get their sentiments freely and naturally, and the
correspondence is a source of much pleasure to me. I think, however, I
might venture just to give you one extract."

"You had better not, sir; there would be a sort of treachery in it, that
I confess I would rather not be accessary to. If Miss Coldbrooke do not
wish me to read what she writes, she can hardly wish that you should
read any of it to me."

Uncle Ro glanced at me, and I fancied he seemed dissatisfied with my
_nonchalance_. He read the letter through to himself, however, laughing
here, smiling there, then muttering "capital!" "good!" "charming girl!"
"worthy of Hannah More!" &c. &c., as if just to provoke my curiosity.
But I had no desire to read "Hannah More," as any young fellow of
five-and-twenty can very well imagine, and I stood it