him with us. What is he to do in Rome?
I shall never get a sight of him again, not even if he comes back; but
that he won't do, the dear boy."

"It is fortune and fame for him," said the father.

"Yes, thank you, my friend," said the mother; "you are saying what
you do not mean. You are just as sorrowful as I am."

And it was all true about the sorrow and the journey. But
everybody said it was a great piece of good fortune for the young
fellow. And he had to take leave, and of the General too. The
General's lady did not show herself, for she had her bad headache.
On this occasion the General told his only anecdote, about what he had
said to the Prince, and how the Prince had said to him, "You are
incomparable." And he held out a languid hand to George.

Emily gave George her hand too, and looked almost sorry; and
George was the most sorry of all.

Time goes by when one has something to do; and it goes by, too,
when one has nothing to do. The time is equally long, but not
equally useful. It was useful to George, and did not seem long at all,
except when he happened to be thinking of his home. How might the good
folks be getting on, up stairs and down stairs? Yes, there was writing
about that, and many things can be put into a letter--bright
sunshine and dark, heavy days. Both of these were in the letter
which brought the news that his father was dead, and that his mother
was alone now. She wrote that Emily had come down to see her, and
had been to her like an angel of comfort; and concerning herself,
she added that she had been allowed to keep her situation as
porteress.

The General's lady kept a diary, and in this diary was recorded
every ball she attended and every visit she received. The diary was
illustrated by the insertion of the visiting cards of the diplomatic
circle and of the most noble families; and the General's lady was
proud of it. The diary kept growing through a long time, and amid many
severe headaches, and through a long course of half-nights, that is to
say, of court balls. Emily had now been to a court ball for the
first time. Her mother had worn a bright red dress, with black lace,
in the Spanish style; the daughter had been attired in white, fair and
delicate; green silk ribbons fluttered like flag-leaves among her
yellow locks, and on her head she wore a wreath of water-lillies.
Her eyes were so blue and clear, her mouth was so delicate and red,
she looked like a little water spirit, as