ER LVIII.

EDITH BROWNLOW'S DREAM.

"My dear, sit down; I want to speak to you. Do you know I should like
to see you--married." This speech was made at Dunripple to Edith
Brownlow by her uncle, Sir Gregory, one morning in July, as she was
attending him with his breakfast. His breakfast consisted always of
a cup of chocolate, made after a peculiar fashion, and Edith was in
the habit of standing by the old man's bedside while he took it. She
would never sit down, because she knew that were she to do so she
would be pretty nearly hidden out of sight in the old arm-chair that
stood at the bed-head; but now she was specially invited to do so,
and that in a manner which almost made her think that it would be
well that she should hide herself for a space. But she did not sit
down. There was the empty cup to be taken from Sir Gregory's hands,
and, after the first moment of surprise, Edith was not quite sure
that it would be good that she should hide herself. She took the cup
and put it on the table, and then returned, without making any reply.
"I should like very much to see you married, my dear," said Sir
Gregory, in the mildest of voices.

"Do you want to get rid of me, uncle?"

"No, my dear; that is just what I don't want. Of course you'll marry
somebody."

"I don't see any of course, Uncle Gregory."

"But why shouldn't you? I suppose you have thought about it."

"Only in a general way, Uncle Gregory."

Sir Gregory Marrable was not a wise man. His folly was of an order
very different from that of Lord Trowbridge,--very much less likely
to do harm to himself or others, much more innocent, and, folly
though it was, a great deal more compatible with certain intellectual
gifts. Lord Trowbridge, not to put too fine a point upon it, was
a fool all round. He was much too great a fool to have an idea of
his own folly. Now Sir Gregory distrusted himself in everything,
conceived himself to be a poor creature, would submit himself to a
child on any question of literature, and had no opinion of his own
on any matter outside his own property,--and even as to that his
opinion was no more than lukewarm. Yet he read a great deal, had much
information stored away somewhere in his memory, and had learned at
any rate to know how small a fly he was himself on the wheel of the
world. But, alas, when he did meddle with anything he was apt to
make a mess of it. There had been some conversation between him
and his sister-in-law, Edith'