g up Brookfield.

An event occurred that hurried them on. They received a visit from their
mother's brother, John Pierson, a Colonel of Uhlans, in the
Imperial-Royal service. He had rarely been in communication with them;
his visit was unexpected. His leave of absence from his quarters in Italy
was not longer than a month, and he was on his way to Ireland, to settle
family business; but he called, as he said, to make acquaintance with his
nieces. The ladies soon discovered, in spite of his foreign-cut chin and
pronounced military habit of speech and bearing, that he was at heart
fervidly British. His age was about fifty: a man of great force of
shoulder and potent length of arm, courteous and well-bred in manner, he
was altogether what is called a model of a cavalry officer. Colonel
Pierson paid very little attention to his brother-in-law, but the ladies
were evidently much to his taste; and when he kissed Cornelia's hand, his
eyes grew soft, as at a recollection.

"You are what your mother once promised to be," he said. To her he gave
that mother's portrait, taking it solemnly from his breast-pocket, and
attentively contemplating it before it left his hands. The ladies pressed
him for a thousand details of their mama's youthful life; they found it a
strange consolation to talk of her and image her like Cornelia. The
foreign halo about the Colonel had an effect on them that was almost like
what nobility produces; and by degrees they heated their minds to
conceive that they were consenting to an outrage on that mother's memory,
in countenancing Mrs. Chump's transparent ambition to take her place, as
they did by staying in the house with the woman. The colonel's few
expressive glances at Mrs. Chump, and Mrs. Chump's behaviour before the
colonel, touched them with intense distaste for their present surly
aspect of life. Civilized little people are moved to fulfil their
destinies and to write their histories as much by distaste as by
appetite. This fresh sentimental emotion, which led them to glorify their
mother's image in their hearts, heightened and gave an acid edge to their
distaste for the think they saw. Nor was it wonderful that Cornelia, said
to be so like that mother, should think herself bound to accept the
office of taking the initiative in a practical protest against the
desecration of the name her mother had borne. At times, I see that
sentiment approaches too near the Holy of earthly Holies for us to laugh
a