muse her. Her
taste is getting to be demoralised in Washington. Do you know, Mr.
Carrington, I'm not clever or serious, like Madeleine, and I can't read
laws, and hate politics, but I've more common sense than she has, and
she makes me cross with her. I understand now why young widows are
dangerous, and why they're bumed at their husband's funerals in India.
Not that I want to have Madeleine burned, for she's a dear, good
creature, and I love her better than anything in the world; but she will
certainly do herself some dreadful mischief one of these days; she
has the most extravagant notions about self-sacrifice and duty; if she
hadn't luckily thought of taking charge of me, she would have done some
awful thing long ago, and if I could only be a little wicked, she would
be quite happy all the rest of her life in reforming me; but now she has
got hold of that Mr. Ratcliffe, and he is trying to make her think she
can reform him, and if he does, it's all up with us. Madeleine will just
go and break her heart over that odious, great, coarse brute, who only
wants her money."

Sybil delivered this little oration with a degree of energy that went to
Carrington's heart. She did not often make such sustained efforts, and
it was clear that on this subject she had exhausted her whole mind.
Carrington was delighted, and urged her on. "I dislike Mr. Ratcliffe as
much as you do;--more perhaps. So does every one who knows much about
him. But we shall only make the matter worse if we interfere. What can
we do?"

"That is just what I tell everybody," resumed Sybil. "There is Victoria
Dare always telling me I ought to do something; and Mr. Schneidekoupon
too; just as though I could do anything. Madeleine has done nothing but
get into mischief here. Half the people think her worldly and ambitious.
Only last night that spiteful old woman, Mrs. Clinton, said to me: 'Your
sister is quite spoiled by Washington. She is more wild for power than
any human being I ever saw.' I was dreadfully angry and told her she was
quite mistaken--Madeleine was not the least spoiled. But I couldn't
say that she was not fond of power, for she is; but not in the way Mrs.
Clinton meant. You should have seen her the other evening when Mr.
Ratcliffe said about some matter of public business that he would do
whatever she thought right; she spoke up quite sharply for her, with a
scornful little laugh, and said that he had better do what he thought
right. He looked