an, would only give her a crumb, she
would be his most faithful dog. I fear he cannot be induced, and Conning
will be snapped up by somebody else. You know how susceptible she is
behind her primness--she will be of no use on earth, and I shall find
excuse to send her back immediately. After all, her appearance here was
all that was wanted.

'Mrs. Melville and her dreadful juvenile are here, as you may
imagine--the complete Englishwoman. I smile on her, but I could laugh.
To see the crow's-feet under her eyes on her white skin, and those
ringlets, is really too ridiculous. Then there is a Miss Carrington,
Lady Jocelyn's cousin, aged thirty-two--if she has not tampered with the
register of her birth. I should think her equal to it. Between dark and
fair. Always in love with some man, Conning tells me she hears. Rose's
maid, Polly, hinted the same. She has a little money.

'But my sympathies have been excited by a little cripple--a niece of
Lady Jocelyn's and the favourite grand-daughter of the rich old Mrs.
Bonner--also here--Juliana Bonner. Her age must be twenty. You would
take her for ten. In spite of her immense expectations, the Jocelyns
hate her. They can hardly be civil to her. It is the poor child's
temper. She has already begun to watch dear Evan--certainly the
handsomest of the men here as yet, though I grant you, they are
well-grown men, these Jocelyns, for an untravelled Englishwoman. I fear,
dear Harriet, we have been dreadfully deceived about Rose. The poor
child has not, in her own right, much more than a tenth part of what
we supposed, I fear. It was that Mrs. Melville. I have had occasion to
notice her quiet boasts here. She said this morning, "when Mel is in
the Ministry"--he is not yet in Parliament! I feel quite angry with the
woman, and she is not so cordial as she might be. I have her profile
very frequently while I am conversing with her.

'With Grandmama Bonner I am excellent good friends,--venerable silver
hair, high caps, etc. More of this most interesting Juliana Bonner
by-and-by. It is clear to me that Rose's fortune is calculated upon the
dear invalid's death! Is not that harrowing? It shocks me to think of
it.

'Then there is Mrs. Shorne. She is a Jocelyn--and such a history! She
married a wealthy manufacturer--bartered her blood for his money, and he
failed, and here she resides, a bankrupt widow, petitioning any man that
may be willing for his love AND a decent home. AND--I say in chari