been different, and yet who
knows? Maternal solicitude might have destroyed the sentiment I now
possess. But I must not weary myself by talking--I must bid you
good-bye. Come again soon."

Miriam rose, ventured to kiss her aunt, and departed.

Three months passed, and Miriam and Andrew agreed that there was
vegetation in London as well as in Cowfold. They began indeed to think
it was even a little greener in Cowfold than in Nelson Square itself.

Miriam had been out for walks--she had been as far as Regent Street;
but Regent Street began to lose its charms, especially as she had no
companions. Her landlady, Miss Tippit, was a demure little person of
about fifty years, but looking rather younger, for her hair was light.
It was always drawn very tightly over her forehead, and with extreme
precision under her ears. She invariably wore a very tight-fitting
black gown, and as her lips too were somewhat tightly set, she was a
very tight Miss Tippit altogether. It was necessary to be so, for
beyond an annuity of 20 pounds a year, she had no means of support save
letting her lodgings. She was very good, but her goodness appeared to
lack spontaneity. It seemed as if she did everything, and even
bestowed her rare kisses, under instructions from her conscience, and
every tendency to effusiveness was checked as a crime. Yet the truth
was that she was naturally kind and even generous, but disbelieving in
nature on the whole, she never would sanction any natural instinct
unless she could give it the form of duty. She was an unpleasant
companion at times, because she often felt bound to "set things right,"
and made suggestions which were resented as interference. When she
visited her friends, for she had two or three, she invariably assumed
the reins, and was provocative by reason of her unauthorised
admonitions to the servants or remarks upon defective management.
Another odd thing was that Miss Tippit was a Christian. She went to
church regularly twice every Sunday, and it was always her parish
church. She might have found something to do her more good if she had
gone farther afield; but she considered it her duty to go to her own
church as she called it. The parson was not eminent, belonged to no
school, and said nothing which was specially helpful; but Miss Tippit
listened with respect, heard the Bible read, did her best to join in
the hymns with her little thin voice, and prayed the church prayers.
She contrive