Opera,
and "she was surprised she had not seen him there before, as she went
herself very often."

"He had seen her, however;" and he looked as if it were not easy not
to see _her_ when she was there.

She blushed and was pleased, for it evidently was not an unmeaning
compliment.

"Mr. Hazlewood's very clever," she said the next day; "and his tastes
are so cultivated and refined. He is very different from the usual run
of young men." (When a girl begins to think a man different from the
"usual run," you may be sure she herself is off the common track.)
"There's something very manly in all his sentiments, independent and
high-toned. He cannot be engaged to Mary Morton, for I alluded to the
report, and he seemed quite amused at the idea. I can see he thinks
her very silly, which she is, though pretty--though he was two
gentlemanly to say so."

"How, then, did you find out that he thought so," asked George,
smiling.

"Oh, from one or two little things. We were speaking of a German poem
that I was trying to get the other day, and he said he had it, but had
lent it to Miss Morton. 'However,' he added, with a peculiar smile,
'he did not believe she wanted to read it, and at any rate, he would
bring it to me as soon as she returned it. He doubted whether she was
much of a German reader.' But it was more the smile and the manner in
which he said it, than the words, that made me think he had no very
high opinion of her literary tastes."

"He may not like her any the less for that," said George, carelessly.
"I think your clever literary men rarely do value a woman less for her
ignorance."

But there was an expression in Angila's pretty face that seemed to
contradict this assertion; for, like most pretty women, the was vainer
of her talents than her beauty--and she thought Hazlewood had been
quite struck by some of her criticisms the night before.

However this might be, the intimacy seemed to progress at a wonderful
rate. He called and brought her books; and they had a world to say
every time they met, which, whether by accident or design, was now
beginning to be very often.

"You knew old Mr. Hazlewood, mamma, did not you?" said Angila. "And
who did you say Mrs. Hazlewood was?" And now she listened very
differently from the last time that her mother had launched forth on
the topic of old times and friends. Angila was wonderfully interested
in all the history of the whole race, for Mrs. Mervale began with the
great