,' said Henrietta, 'but
have some little experience of society. Therefore their works give a
perverted impression of human conduct; for they accept as a principal,
that which is only an insignificant accessory; and they make existence
a succession of frivolities, when even the career of the most frivolous
has its profounder moments.'

'How vivid is the writer's description of a ball or a dinner,' said Miss
Grandison; 'everything lives and moves. And yet, when the hero makes
love, nothing can be more unnatural. His feelings are neither deep, nor
ardent, nor tender. All is stilted, and yet ludicrous.'

'I do not despise the talent which describes so vividly a dinner and a
ball,' said Miss Temple. 'As far as it goes it is very amusing, but
it should be combined with higher materials. In a fine novel, manners
should be observed, and morals should be sustained; we require thought
and passion, as well as costume and the lively representation of
conventional arrangements; and the thought and passion will be the
better for these accessories, for they will be relieved in the novel as
they are relieved in life, and the whole will be more true.'

'But have you read that love scene, Henrietta? It appeared to me so
ridiculous!'

'I never read love scenes,' said Henrietta Temple.

'Oh, I love a love story,' said Miss Grandison, smiling, 'if it be
natural and tender, and touch my heart. When I read such scenes, I
weep.'

'Ah, my sweet Katherine, you are soft-hearted.'

'And you, Henrietta, what are you?'

'Hard-hearted. The most callous of mortals.'

'Oh, what would Lord Montfort say?'

'Lord Montfort knows it. We never have love scenes.'

'And yet you love him?'

'Dearly; I love and esteem him.'

'Well,' said Miss Grandison, 'I may be wrong, but if I were a man I do
not think I should like the lady of my love to esteem me.'

'And yet esteem is the only genuine basis of happiness, believe me,
Kate. Love is a dream.'

'And how do you know, dear Henrietta?'

'All writers agree it is.'

'The writers you were just ridiculing?'

'A fair retort; and yet, though your words are the more witty, believe
me, mine are the more wise.'

'I wish my cousin would wake from his dream,' said Katherine. 'To tell
you a secret, love is the cause of his unhappiness. Don't move, dear
Henrietta,' added Miss Grandison; 'we are so happy here;' for Miss
Temple, in truth, seemed not a little discomposed.

'You should marry your cousin,'