il a child.

"Mamma says she spoils my brother,--do you think anything could, Miss
Bell? Look at him,--isn't he like a little angel?"

"Gad, I was quite wight," said the Baronet. "He has cwied, and he has
got it, you see. Go it, Fwank, old boy."

"Sir Francis is a very judicious parent," Miss Amory whispered. Don't
you think so, Miss Bell? I shan't call you Miss Bell--I shall call you
Laura. I admired you so at church. Your robe was not well made, nor your
bonnet very fresh. But you have such beautiful grey eyes, and such a
lovely tint."

"Thank you," said Miss Bell, laughing.

"Your cousin is handsome, and thinks so. He is uneasy de sa personne.
He has not seen the world yet. Has he genius? Has he suffered? A lady,
a little woman in a rumpled satin and velvet shoes--a Miss Pybus--came
here, and said he has suffered. I, too, have suffered,--and you, Laura,
has your heart ever been touched?"

Laura said "No!" but perhaps blushed a little at the idea or the
question, so that the other said,--

"Ah Laura! I see it all. It is the beau cousin. Tell me everything. I
already love you as a sister."

"You are very kind," said Miss Bell, smiling, "and--and it must be owned
that it is a very sudden attachment."

"All attachments are so. It is electricity--spontaneity. It is
instantaneous. I knew I should love you from the moment I saw you. Do
you not feel it yourself?"

"Not yet," said Laura; "but--I daresay I shall if I try."

"Call me by my name, then."

"But I don't know it," Laura cried out.

"My name is Blanche--isn't it a pretty name? Call me by it."

"Blanche--it is very pretty, indeed."

"And while mamma talks with that kind-looking lady--what relation is she
to you? She must have been pretty once, but is rather passee; she is not
well gantee, but she has a pretty hand--and while mamma talks to her,
come with me to my own room,--my own, own room. It's a darling room,
though that horrid creature, Captain Strong, did arrange it. Are you
eprise of him? He says you are, but I know better; it is the
beau cousin. Yes--il a de beaux yeux. Je n'aime pas les blonds,
ordinairement. Car je suis blonde moi--je suis Blanche et blonde,"--and
she looked at her face and made a moue in the glass; and never stopped
for Laura's answer to the questions which she had put.

Blanche was fair, and like a sylph. She had fair hair, with green
reflections in it. But she had dark eyebrows. She had long black
eyelashes, which veil