re than what he
could believe a sister to be if he had one,--in short his own little
Queen Bee. He had had a monopoly of her; she had trained him in all
the civilization which he possessed, and it was with considerable
mortification that he thought himself lowered in her eyes by comparison
with his old rival, as old a friend of hers, with the same claim to
cousinly affection; and instead of understanding only what she had
taught him, familiar with the tastes and pursuits on which she set
perhaps too great a value.

Fred did not care nearly as much for Beatrice's preference: it might be
that he took it as a matter of course, or perhaps that having a sister
of his own, he did not need her sympathy, but still it was a point on
which he was likely to be sensitive, and thus her favour was likely
to be secretly quite as much a matter of competition as their school
studies and pastimes.

For instance, dinner was over, and Henrietta was admiring some choice
books of prints, such luxuries as Uncle Geoffrey now afforded himself,
and which his wife and daughter greatly preferred to the more costly
style of living which some people thought befitted them. She called to
her brother who was standing by the fire, "Fred, do come and look at
this beautiful Albert Durer of Sintram."

He hesitated, doubting whether Alexander would scorn him for an
acquaintance with Albert Durer, but Beatrice added, "Yes, it was an
old promise that I would show it to you. There now, look, admire, or be
pronounced insensible."

"A wonderful old fellow was that Albert," said Fred, looking, and
forgetting his foolish false shame in the pleasure of admiration. "Yes;
O how wondrously the expression on Death's face changes as it does in
the story! How easy it is to see how Fouque must have built it up! Have
you seen it, mamma?"

His mother came to admire. Another print was produced, and another, and
Fred and Beatrice were eagerly studying the elaborate engravings of the
old German, when Alex, annoyed at finding her too much engrossed to have
a word for him, came to share their occupation, and took up one of
the prints with no practised hand. "Take care, Alex, take care," cried
Beatrice, in a sort of excruciated tone; "don't you see what a pinch you
are giving it! Only the initiated ought to handle a print: there is a
pattern for you," pointing to Fred.

She cut right and left: both looked annoyed, and retreated from the
table. Fred thinking how Alex must