erse-making, and the trying to do as much as Norman, and
fix some time in the day--half an hour, perhaps--for your Greek, I think
it might do very well."

"Thank you," said Ethel, much relieved; "I'm glad you don't want me to
leave it all off. I hope Norman won't be vexed," she added, looking a
little melancholy.

But Norman had not by any means the sort of sentiment on the subject
that she had. "Of course, you know, Ethel," said he, "it must have come
to this some time or other, and if you find those verses too hard, and
that they take up too much of your time, you had better give them up."

Ethel did not like anything to be said to be too hard for her, and was
very near pleading she only wanted time, but some recollection came
across her, and presently she said, "I suppose it is a wrong sort of
ambition to want to learn more, in one's own way, when one is told it
is not good for one. I was just going to say I hated being a woman,
and having these tiresome little trifles--my duty--instead of learning,
which is yours, Norman."

"I'm glad you did not," said Norman, "for it would have been very silly
of you; and I assure you, Ethel, it is really time for you to stop, or
you would get into a regular learned lady, and be good for nothing. I
don't mean that knowing more than other people would make you so, but
minding nothing else would."

This argument from Norman himself did much to reconcile Ethel's mind to
the sacrifice she had made; and when she went to bed, she tried to work
out the question in her own mind, whether her eagerness for classical
learning was a wrong sort of ambition, to know what other girls did not,
and whether it was right to crave for more knowledge than was thought
advisable for her. She only bewildered herself, and went to sleep before
she had settled anything, but that she knew she must make all give way
to papa first, and, secondly, to Cocksmoor.

Meanwhile Margaret had told her father all that had passed. He was
only surprised to hear that Ethel had kept up so long with Norman, and
thought that it was quite right that she should not undertake so much,
agreeing more entirely than Margaret had expected with Miss Winter's
view, that it would be hurtful to body as well as mind.

"It is perfectly ridiculous to think of her attempting it!" he said. "I
am glad you have put a stop to it."

"I am glad I have," said Margaret; "and dear Ethel behaved so very well.
If she had resisted, it would have