dear cousin, what a picture!” 

Charlotte had fixed her serious eyes upon her sister; she wondered whence she had suddenly derived these strange notions. Mr. Wentworth also observed his younger daughter. “I don’t know what her manner of life may have been,” he said; “but she certainly never can have enjoyed a more refined and salubrious home.” 

Gertrude stood there looking at them all. “She is the wife of a Prince,” she said. “We are all princes here,” said Mr. Wentworth; “and I don’t know of any palace in this neighborhood that is to let.” “Cousin William,” Robert Acton interposed, “do you want to do something handsome? Make them a present, for three months, of the little house over the way.” 

“You are very generous with other people’s things!” cried his sister. “Robert is very generous with his own things,” Mr. Wentworth observed dispassionately, and looking, in cold meditation, at his kinsman. “Gertrude,” Lizzie went on, “I had an idea you were so fond of your new cousin.” “Which new cousin?” asked Gertrude. 

“I don’t mean the Baroness!” the young girl rejoined, with her laugh. “I thought you expected to see so much of him.” “Of Felix? I hope to see a great deal of him,” said Gertrude, simply. “Then why do you want to keep him out of the house?” 

Gertrude looked at Lizzie Acton, and then looked away. “Should you want me to live in the house with you, Lizzie?” asked Clifford. “I hope you never will. I hate you!” Such was this young lady’s reply. “Father,” said Gertrude, stopping before Mr. Wentworth and smiling, with a smile the sweeter, as her smile always was, for its rarity; “do let them live in the little house over the way. It will be lovely!” 

Robert Acton had been watching her. “Gertrude is right,” he said. “Gertrude is the cleverest girl in the world. If I might take the liberty, I should strongly recommend their living there.” “There is nothing there so pretty as the northeast room,” Charlotte urged. 

“She will make it pretty. Leave her alone!” Acton exclaimed. Gertrude, at his compliment, had blushed and looked at him: it was as if someone less familiar had complimented her. “I am sure she will make it pretty. It will be very interesting. It will be a place to go to. It will be a foreign house.” 

“Are we very sure that we need a foreign house?” Mr. Wentworth inquired. “Do you think it desirable to establish a foreign house—in this quiet place?” “You speak,” said 

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