the earth."
Study! Yes, nothing is too abstruse, nowadays. The pretty maidens, whoused to learn a little French with their music and drawing, now take toGreek and Latin and the higher mathematics, but they cannot stitch liketheir grandmothers.
"And," says a strong-minded lady, "are they any worse companions now formen than they were then?"
"Opinions are various, madam." I used to write that as a text-hand copyin a nicely-ruled book that I used to blot with inky fingers. You,madam, who claim your rights, surely will not deny me mine--to have myown opinion, which I will dare to give, and say:
"Yes; I think they have not improved. Somehow one likes softness andsweetness in a woman, and your classic young ladies are often very sharpand hard.
"If you combat my opinion upon the main idea of women's purpose here,add this to your study--the aspect of a woman when she is mostbeautiful.
"And when is that?--in her ball dress?--in her wedding costume?--whenshe first says `yes?'
"Oh, no; none of these, but when she is alone with the child she loves,and that sweet--well, angelic look of satisfied maternity is on herface, and there is Nature's own truth stamped indelibly as it has beenfrom the first.
"Men never look like that. They never did, and one may say never will.It is not given to us, madam. Study that look; it is more convincingthan all the speeches women ever spoke on woman's rights."
Just such a look was upon the face of little thin white-faced MissClode, as the frank, manly young fellow strode suddenly into her shop,making her start, change colour, and set down on the counter somethingshe was holding, taking it up again directly with trembling hands.
"Ah, Miss Clode," he said cheerfully, "here I am again. Is it theweather, or are your strings bad?"
"Do they break so, then?" she said, hurriedly producing a tin canister,which refused to give up its lid; and Richard had to take it, and wrenchit off with his strong fingers, when a number of oily rings oftransparent catgut flew out on to the glass case.
"How clumsy I am," he said.
"No," she said softly; "how strong and manly. How you have alteredthese last ten years!"
"Well, I suppose so," he said, smiling down at the little thin,upturned, admiring face. "But you'll ruin me in strings, Miss Clode."
"I wish you would not pay for them," she said plaintively. "I get thevery best Roman strings. I send on purpose to a place in Covent Garden,London, and they ought to be good."
"And so they are," he said, taking up half a dozen rings on his fingersand examining them to see which were the clearest, smoothest, and mosttransparent.
"But they break so," she sighed. "You really must not pay for these."
"Then I shall not have any," he said.
She gazed tenderly in his face, and her eyes were very intent as shewatched him. Then, coughing slightly, and half turning away, she saidgently:
"And your father--is he quite well?"
"Oh yes, thank you. Very well. Well as a man can be who has such agreat idle, useless son."
Miss Clode shook her little curls at him reproachfully, and there wassomething very tender in her way as she cried, "You should not saythat." Then, in a quiet apologetic manner, she lowered her tone andsaid:
"You can't help being so tall and strong and manly, and--and--and--I'monly an old woman, Mr Linnell," she said, smiling in a deprecating way,"and I've known you since you were such a boy, so I shall say it--youwon't be vain--so handsome."
"Am I?" he said, laughing. "Ah well, handsome is that handsome does,Miss Clode."
"Exactly," she said, laying her hand upon his arm and speaking veryearnestly, "and I have three--three notes here."
"For me?" he said, blushing like a woman, and then frowning at hisweakness.
"Yes, Mr Linnell, for you."
"Tear them up, then," he said sharply. "I don't want them."
Miss Clode gave vent to a sigh of relief.
"Or no," he said firmly. "They were given to you to deliver. Give themto me."
She passed three triangular notes to him half unwillingly, and he tookthem, glanced at the handwritings, and then tore them across withoutopening them.
"No lady worth a second thought would address a man like that," he saidsharply. "Where shall I throw this stuff?"
Miss Clode stooped down and lifted a waste-paper basket from behind thecounter, and he threw the scraps in.
"We are old friends, Miss Clode," he said. "Burn them for me, please,at once. I should not like to be so dishonourable as to disgrace thewriters by letting them be seen."
"People are talking about you so, sir."
"About me?" he cried.
"Yes, Mr Linnell; they say you behaved like a hero."
"Absurd!"
"When you swam out to the pony carriage and helped to rescue those--er--ladies."
"My dear Miss Clode, would not any fisherman on the beach have done thesame if he had been near? I wish people would not talk such nonsense."
"People will talk down here, Mr Linnell. They have so little else todo."
"More's the pity," said Richard pettishly.
"And is--is Mrs Dean quite well again, Mr Linnell?"
"Oh yes," he said coolly. "She was more frightened than hurt."
"Does Miss Dean seem any worse, sir? Does she look pale?"
The little woman asked these questions in a hesitating way, her handsbusy the while over various objects on her counter.
"Pale--pale?" said Richard, turning over the violin strings and lookingto see which were the most clear. "Really, I did not notice, MissClode."
"He would not speak so coolly if this affair had ripened into anythingmore warm than being on friendly terms," thought the little woman, andshe seemed to breathe more freely.
"I'm afraid I've been very rude," continued the young man. "I ought tohave asked after them this morning."
Miss Clode gave another sigh of relief.
"No one shall see those scraps, Mr Linnell," she said quietly; and thelook of affectionate pride in him seemed to intensify. "It is quiteright that a young gentleman like you should have some one to love him,but not in such a way as that."
"No," he replied shortly, and the colour came into his cheeks again,making them tingle, so that he stamped his foot and snatched up theviolin strings again to go on with his selection. "There, I shall havethese four," he said, forcing a smile, "and if they don't turn out wellI shall patronise your rival, Miss Clode."
"My rival!" exclaimed the little woman, turning pale. "Oh, Iunderstand. Yes, of course, Mr Linnell. Those four. Let me put themin paper."
"No, no. I'll slip them in this little case," he said, and he laid fourshillings on the counter.
"I'd really much rather you did not pay for them," she protested, andvery earnestly too.
"Then I won't have them," he said; and, with a sigh, Miss Clode placedthe money in her drawer.
"I hope you were not one of the party who serenaded a certain lady onthat terrible night of horrors, Mr Linnell," she said, smiling; andthen, noticing quickly the start he gave, "Why, fie! I did not thinkyou thought of such things."
"Yes; don't talk about it, I beg," he exclaimed. "It was by accident.I did not know I was going there."
"But surely, Mr Linnell, you don't think--Oh!"
She stood gazing at him with her lips apart.
"Miss Clode," he said firmly, "I do not confide to people what I think.Good-morning."
"No, no: stop," she said earnestly; and he turned, wondering at her toneof voice, and agitation.
"What do you mean?" he said.
"Only--only--that I have known you so long, Mr Linnell, I can't help--humbly, of course--taking a little interest in you--you made me feel soproud just now--when you tore up those foolish women's letters--andnow--"
"Well, and now?" he said sternly.
"It troubled me--pray don't be angry with me--it troubled me--to think--of course it was foolish of me, but I should not--should not like to seeyou--"
"Well, Miss Clode, pray speak," for she had stopped again.
"See you make an unworthy choice," she faltered.
"Miss Clode, this is too much," he said, flushing angrily, and he turnedand left the shop, the little thin pale woman gazing after him wistfullyand sighing bitterly as he passed from her sight.
"I'm--I'm very fond of him," she said as she wiped a few weak tears fromher eyes. "Such a
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