ness
could do no wrong; nor was it till she came to write of the event to
her sister, that even a doubt crossed her mind on the subject. The
difficulty of explaining a circumstance of which she knew but little,
was enhanced by her knowledge of Ellen's rigid and unbending sense of
right. "Poor dear Nelly," said she, "with her innocence of mind, will
understand nothing of all this, or she will condemn Lady Hester at once.
Submission to her husband would, in her opinion, have been the first of
duties. She cannot appreciate motives which actuate society in a rank
different from her own. In her ignorance of the world, too, she might
deem my remaining here unadvisable; she might counsel my return to
home; and thus I should be deserting, forsaking, the dear friend who has
confided all her sorrows to my heart, and reposes all her trust in my
fidelity. This would break Lady Hester's heart and my own together; and
yet nothing is more likely than such a course. Better a thousand times
not expose her friend's cause to such a casualty. A little time and a
little patience may place matters in a position more intelligible and
less objectionable; and, after all, the question is purely a family
secret, the divulgence of which, even to a sister, is perhaps not
warrantable."

Such were among the plausibilities with which she glanced over her
conduct; without, however, satisfying herself that she was in the right.
She had only begun the descent of lax morality, and her head was
addled by the new sensation. Happy are they who even from weak nerves
relinquish the career!

Kate's letter home, then, was full of gay revelations. Galleries,
churches, gardens; objects of art or historic interest; new pictures
of manners, sketches of society, abounded. There were descriptions of
fetes, too, and brilliant assemblies, with great names of guests and
gorgeous displays of splendor. Well and sweetly were they written; a
quick observation and a keen insight into character in every line. The
subtle analysis of people and their pretensions, which comes of mixture
with the world, was preeminent in all she said; while a certain sharp
wit pointed many of the remarks, and sparkled in many a brilliant
passage.

It was altogether a lively and a pleasant letter. A stranger, reading
ft, would have pronounced the writer clever and witty; a friend would
have regretted the want of personal details, the hundred little traits
of egoism that speak confidence and tru