ot have
Laura as a daughter-in-law 'at any price,' and that if George choose to
marry her it must be as a pauper, and unrelieved of his heavy burden of
turf debts. Piper's stormy, almost speechless anger, like his craving
for sympathy and approval, are alike often exceedingly pathetic. His
personality, though less delicately drawn than that of his niece, Sara
Cavendish, is a striking figure throughout the book. A good delineation
of an old man is sufficiently rare in fiction to make that of Uncle
Piper notable. Tasma has not equalled this performance in any of her
other works. Josiah Carp, the Melbourne merchant in _In Her Earliest
Youth_, and Sir Matthew Bogg, another of the same class, in the short
story _Monsieur Caloche_, are shown only in a satirical and repulsive
light, which necessarily makes them appear somewhat unreal.

As a vivid study, combined with excellent comedy, the portrait of Sara
Cavendish would not have been unworthy of Thackeray. The selfishness
concealed by her demure exterior and great beauty, and the absurdly
excessive estimate of her virtues made by the Reverend Francis Lydiat,
are a warning to all susceptible young men. Lydiat was a passenger by
the ship which carried Sara and her parents to Australia. When he gave
his weekly sermons during the voyage, Miss Cavendish was always present,
and looked at him with her large eyes to such purpose that they 'seemed
to be absorbing his meaning into the soul of their possessor.'

But there was nothing ethereal in Sara's thoughts. 'She had a fancy for
imagining becoming dresses. She would build up a delightful wardrobe in
the air, entering into as many details of her airy outfit as though it
could be instantly materialised. And she liked to imagine a becoming
background for her own beautiful person, in which a husband with the
essentials of good birth and unlimited money, and the desirable
qualifications of an air of distinction and great devotion to her,
filled a reasonable space.' Lydiat had often seen her lost in daydreams
such as it would have seemed to him almost a sacrilege to disturb,
'though it is probable that the only notion he would have been guilty of
upsetting had reference to the shape of an imaginary velvet train.'

The insight and completeness with which Sara's character is depicted in
the course of the story make it impossible that the reader should
entirely dislike her as a mere sample of the calculating coquette. She
is one of that la