not convince
herself, and when at last she went to her bed her mind was still
vacillating. The next morning she met Hetta at breakfast, and with
assumed nonchalance asked a question about the man who was perhaps
about to be her husband. 'Do you like Mr Broune, Hetta?'

'Yes;--pretty well. I don't care very much about him. What makes you
ask, mamma?'

'Because among my acquaintances in London there is no one so truly
kind to me as he is.'

'He always seems to me to like to have his own way.'

'Why shouldn't he like it?'

'He has to me that air of selfishness which is so very common with
people in London;--as though what he said were all said out of surface
politeness.'

'I wonder what you expect, Hetta, when you talk of London people? Why
should not London people be as kind as other people? I think Mr Broune
is as obliging a man as any one I know. But if I like anybody, you
always make little of him. The only person you seem to think well of
is Mr Montague.'

'Mamma, that is unfair and unkind. I never mention Mr Montague's name
if I can help it,--and I should not have spoken of Mr Broune, had you
not asked me.'

CHAPTER XXXII - LADY MONOGRAM

Georgiana Longestaffe had now been staying with the Melmottes for a
fortnight, and her prospects in regard to the London season had not
much improved. Her brother had troubled her no further, and her family
at Caversham had not, as far as she was aware, taken any notice of
Dolly's interference. Twice a week she received a cold, dull letter
from her mother,--such letters as she had been accustomed to receive
when away from home; and these she had answered, always endeavouring
to fill her sheet with some customary description of fashionable
doings, with some bit of scandal such as she would have repeated for
her mother's amusement,--and her own delectation in the telling of it,--
had there been nothing painful in the nature of her sojourn in London.
Of the Melmottes she hardly spoke. She did not say that she was taken
to the houses in which it was her ambition to be seen. She would have
lied directly in saying so. But she did not announce her own
disappointment. She had chosen to come up to the Melmottes in
preference to remaining at Caversham, and she would not declare her
own failure. 'I hope they are kind to you,' Lady Pomona always said.
But Georgiana did not tell her mother whether the Melmottes were kind
or unkind.

In truth, her 'season' was a very unplea