o say when we were
small. I wonder whether it is true. I suppose I have not enough variety,
or not enough goodness, just at present."

"Why?" I asked. "I should think you had both."

"I do not see the great variety," she answered.

"Have you not found a new relation to-day? An interesting cousin who has
seen the whole world ought to go far towards making a variety in life."

"What should you think of a man, Mr. Griggs, whose brother has not been
dead eighteen months, and whose mother is dangerously ill, perhaps
dying, and who shows no more feeling than a stone?"

The question came sharply and distinctly; Hermione's short lip curled in
scorn, and the words were spoken through her closed teeth. Of course she
was speaking of Paul Patoff. She turned to me for an answer, and there
was an angry light in her eyes.

"Is your cousin's mother very ill?" I asked.

"She is not really dying, but she can never get well. Oh, Mr. Griggs,"
she cried, clasping her hands together on her knees, and leaning back in
her seat, "I wish I could tell you all about it! I am sure you might do
some good, but they would be very angry if I told you. I wonder whether
he is really so hard-hearted as he looks!"

"Oh, no," I answered. "Men who have lived so much in the world learn to
conceal their feelings."

"It is not thought good manners to have any feeling, is it?"

"Most people try to hide what they feel. What is good of showing every
one that you are hurt, when nobody can do anything to help you? It is
undignified to make an exhibition of sorrow for the benefit of one's
neighbors."

"Perhaps. But I almost think aunt Chrysophrasia is right: the world was
a nicer place, and life was more interesting, when everybody showed what
they felt, and fought for what they wanted, and ran away with people
they loved, and killed people they hated."

"I think you would get very tired of it," I said, laughing. "It is
uncomfortable to live in constant danger of one's life. You used not to
talk so, Miss Carvel; what has happened to you?"

"Oh, I do not know; everything is happening that ought not. I should
think you might see that we are all very anxious. But I do not half
understand it myself. Will you not tell me a story, and help me to
forget all about it? Here comes papa with Professor Cutter, looking
graver than ever; they have been to see--I mean they have been talking
about it again."

"Once upon a time there was a"---- I stopped. John Carvel