is thoughts were on Kenelm, and his eyes on Cecilia.

Cecilia resumes some mysterious piece of lady's work, no matter
what,--perhaps embroidery for a music-stool, perhaps a pair of slippers
for her father (which, being rather vain of his feet and knowing they
looked best in plain morocco, he will certainly never wear). Cecilia
appears absorbed in her occupation; but her eyes and her thoughts are
on Sir Peter. Why, my lady reader may guess. And oh, so flatteringly,
so lovingly fixed! She thinks he has a most charming, intelligent,
benignant countenance. She admires even his old-fashioned frock-coat,
high neckcloth, and strapped trousers. She venerates his gray hairs,
pure of dye. She tries to find a close resemblance between that
fair, blue-eyed, plumpish, elderly gentleman and the lean, dark-eyed,
saturnine, lofty Kenelm; she detects the likeness which nobody else
would. She begins to love Sir Peter, though he has not said a word to
her.

Ah! on this, a word for what it is worth to you, my young readers. You,
sir, wishing to marry a girl who is to be deeply, lastingly in love with
you, and a thoroughly good wife practically, consider well how she takes
to your parents; how she attaches to them an inexpressible sentiment,
a disinterested reverence; even should you but dimly recognize the
sentiment, or feel the reverence, how if between you and your parents
some little cause of coldness arise, she will charm you back to honour
your father and your mother, even though they are not particularly
genial to her: well, if you win that sort of girl as your wife think you
have got a treasure. You have won a woman to whom Heaven has given the
two best attributes,--intense feeling of love, intense sense of duty.
What, my dear lady reader, I say of one sex, I say of another, though
in a less degree; because a girl who marries becomes of her husband's
family, and the man does not become of his wife's. Still I distrust the
depth of any man's love to a woman, if he does not feel a great degree
of tenderness (and forbearance where differences arise) for her parents.
But the wife must not so put them in the foreground as to make the
husband think he is cast in the cold of the shadow. Pardon this
intolerable length of digression, dear reader: it is not altogether a
digression, for it belongs to my tale that you should clearly understand
the sort of girl that is personified in Cecilia Travers.

"What has become of Kenelm?" asked Lady Gle