Lucy, might too probably be called on to make her own gowns. All the
fashion of Queen's Gate, something, perhaps, of the fashion of Eaton
Square, would be open to Ayala. Lucy understood enough to know that
Ayala's own charms might probably cause still more August gates to
be opened to her, whereas Aunt Dosett entered no gates. It was quite
natural that Ayala should be chosen. Lucy acknowledged as much to
herself. But they were sisters, and had been so near! By what a chasm
would they be dissevered, now so far asunder!

Lucy herself was a lovely girl, and knew her own loveliness. She
was fairer than Ayala, somewhat taller, and much more quiet in her
demeanour. She was also clever, but her cleverness did not show
itself so quickly. She was a musician, whereas her sister could only
sing. She could really draw, whereas her sister would rush away into
effects in which the drawing was not always very excellent. Lucy was
doing the best she could for herself, knowing something of French
and German, though as yet not very fluent with her tongue. The two
girls were, in truth, both greatly gifted; but Ayala had the gift of
showing her talent without thought of showing it. Lucy saw it all,
and knew that she was outshone; but how great had been the price of
the outshining!

The artist's house had been badly ordered, and the two girls were of
better disposition and better conduct than might have been expected
from such fitful training. Ayala had been the father's pet, and Lucy
the mother's. Parents do ill in making pets, and here they had done
ill. Ayala had been taught to think herself the favourite, because
the artist, himself, had been more prominent before the world than
his wife. But the evil had not been lasting enough to have made bad
feeling between the sisters. Lucy knew that her sister had been
preferred to her, but she had been self-denying enough to be aware
that some such preference was due to Ayala. She, too, admired Ayala,
and loved her with her whole heart. And Ayala was always good to
her,--had tried to divide everything,--had assumed no preference as a
right. The two were true sisters. But when it was decided that Lucy
was to go to Kingsbury Crescent the difference was very great. The
two girls, on their father's death, had been taken to the great red
brick house in Queen's Gate, and from thence, three or four days
after the funeral, Lucy was to be transferred to her Aunt Dosett.
Hitherto there had been little bet