perfection of our powers of observation | came silence and the deadness of humiliaThat from the first the whole difference tion. Some sudden hatred and indignation is latent, the result proves. It is like the had come over Miss Angel, like a dry east superficial resemblance of an embryonic wind parching her very soul. She had reptile to an embryonic bird, or even of not deserved this, she said; she had an embryonic beast to an embryonic fish. been sincere; she had not sought her The reptile never is a bird, nor the beast own advantage in all this; and it was a fish, though the immature stages of de- hard to be humiliated. velopment are superficially alike.

will not forgive themselves for small faults are persons who overrate their own importance. Angelica of late had had many excuses for overrating herself, and perhaps for this very reason suffered more acutely than she might have done at another time from the mistake she had made.

To Angelica this strange distorted If the history of mankind is sketched mood came as a punishment for other out by that of the child's development, things, for the gentle vanities and infithen we may conclude that man was never delities which had brought her to this a mere animal. Instinct and reason seem pass, which had led her on to overrate to form two distinct regions-two dis- her own worth and judgment, and that tinct kinds of activity whereof the for- perhaps of the persons whom she honmer serves as the material for the lat-oured. ter. In order that mere instinctive facul- It is Goethe who says that those who ties may become rational, there is needed the introduction from without (as Mr. Lewes well says) of a new form or force, which is self-conscious, and so can distinguish itself from what is not itself, and can analyze both. With this new principle once introduced, mere sensation is transformed into conscious sensibility; the imagination, from being passive, becomes active and creative; appetite beconies passion, and attachment friendship. The association of images prepares the association of ideas. Association becomes inference. In a word, from the mere animal, we have man ; and what was The determination to which Mr. Reybut direct, indeliberate, and unconscious nolds came was one which in the end, perinstinct, becomes reflex, deliberate, self-haps, was best for all, for Angelica herself conscious reason, with true memory, intelligence, and will.

ST. GEORGE Mivart.

From The Cornhill Magazine.
MISS ANGEL.

CHAPTER XIX.

Young, ardent, reckless; how was she to realize to herself the calm imperturbability of a nature which was not a passionate one or quickly responsive to things that were not tangible, and to which it was unaccustomed.

and for others, but the wisdom of his judgment could only be measured by time. Perhaps it was some dim unacknowledged consciousness of the truth of his own want of earnestness which made him mistrust his sentiment for Miss Angel, its strength and power of endurance.

He walked away moderately satisfied with the part he had played; Angel sat quite still, as I have said, looking into the gathering dusk, watching the lights IN GOLDEN SQUARE. fade; they changed from blue twilight WHAT is a mood? Whence does it into grey and dimmest shadow; chill, come? Why does it overwhelm us with cold, silent, the spring evening gathered its strange stupidities? Here we sit round her, and her white face and figure quietly in our chairs, and what adven-faded into its darkness. tures are ours! What comings and go- Fate is kind sometimes with unexpectings! What momentary emotion and cu-ed blessings, that seem all the brighter rious changes and conflicts! Armies of thought sweep past, experience, memory, hope, are all ranged in battle array; sometimes the two fight from daybreak until sunset and on into the night, nor is it perhaps till the morning that we know which army has retreated and to which the field belongs. For a time some such battle was raging in Angelica's heart as she sat quite quiet upon the couch; then

when they come in hours of twilight. Open a door into a room full of sorrowful shames and regrets. Flash the light of a candle upon all these vapours and dismal consternations. . .

There is a sound of voices on the stairs; there have been exclamations and thumpings and summonings; some one is calling out her name eagerly, and the noise comes nearer and the light

starts into the room, and somehow An-, who had been despatched to keep house gel, out of her twilight shame, suddenly with her grand relations in London. finds herself in light, in love, enfolded in two trembling arms that hold her tight close to a shabby old beating heart. She is blessed almost before she knows who it is that has come; she feels she is safe, scarce knowing how security has come to her; safe upon her father's heart with the benediction of his tender faith upon her; she knows all this almost before she has realized that it is he. She had not even heard the footsteps travelling up-stairs, so engrossed had she been by her dreary present. That present is over, changed in the twinkling of an eye. She gives a little happy cry, tears fill her eyes; a sudden flood of ease flows to her heart, the heavy load seems uplifted as she clasps and clings to the old man, sobbing and at peace once more.

Old John had a liking for the little creature, who put him in mind of his own Angelica at her age, and he had brought her off without much pressing; he only stipulated that Michele should pay her travelling-expenses as far as Lyons. "Couldn't we walk, Uncle John?" said little Rosa, anxiously; but Uncle John told her she should come in a coach with horses and postilions. What would Angelica say if they were to arrive all in rags and covered with dust? They might have come in rags, in sackcloth and ashes. Angelica had no words wherewith to bid them welcome; they were come home, that was enough. How had Antonio known they were arriving? What fortunate chance had sent him to meet them? The fortunate chance was that Antonio, being anxious about Miss Angel's woebeÎn after years that moment came back gone looks an hour before, had walked to her sometimes, and that meeting, the back by the winding street at the square thought of her dim despairing loneliness, corner (that street which led so often to her of the father's love outside the closed house), and he had been standing outside door. That faithful blessing (never ab- at the windows, when old Kauffmann, sent indeed in its tender infalibility), had shaken by his long journey, agitated, susbeen coming nearer and nearer to its ex-picious, fearing murder, and I know not pression at the time when she needed its comfort.

what dangers, drove up in a hired coach. The first person the old man saw was It may be our blessing as well as our Antonio, with folded arms, standing upon punishment that the now is not all with the pavement. He could scarcely beus as we hold it, nor the moment all over lieve in his good fortune. Was this the that is past. It is never quite too late to house, this Angelica's palace? The tall remember, never quite too late to love; windows opened upon iron rails, carved although the heart no longer throbs that and bent into shape as iron railings used we might have warmed, the arms are to be in those days. Her door was also laid low that would have opened to us. ornamented with delicate tracery, and on But who shall say that time and place are either side a narrow window let the light to be a limit to the intangible spirit of into the flagged hall, where a black-andlove and reconciliation, and that new-white pavement had been laid down by found trust and long-delayed gratitude some former inhabitant. The place is may not mean more than we imagine in our lonely and silenced regret?

John Joseph was not alone, the porters were carrying up his trunk, with the great cords and padlocks. It contained a cheese among other treasures, and a goatskin waistcoat, a present from his sisterin-law, and some linen for Angelica's own wear, and a peasant's hat and bodice from Coire, that Miss Angel had wished for.

we

little changed. Only yesterday crossed the quaint little square, with its bare trees. The drifting clouds shone with city lights and gleams. The old houses stand in rows; they are turned to quaint uses schools of arms, societies, little day-schools for children, foreign table-d'hôtes, a "supreme council" rules in a ground-floor parlour. Italian courriers congregate in the corner house, by which Zucchi used to pass on his way Behind the hair trunk and holding by to the flagged hall. There are old shops Antonio's hand came a little person, of for china and wooden carving in the adsome ten years' experience, climbing the joining streets. In one of the houses, stairs, with weary little feet, looking M. R. tells me of a lawyer's office, where about with dark observant eyes, set in aa painting by Miss Kauffmann still shy ingenuous round face. graces the panel of the chimney. PerThis was a little orphan cousin of An-haps that may have been the house where gelica's, Rosa, from Uncle Michele's farm, Zucchi lodged, and the painting may

have been her gift to the faithful friend. [into which she had come from her green The faithful friend was made happy to-home in the valley.

night by the sight of the happiness of the That was tranquil happiness; and all people he was interested in. They had a the next days were happy, and seemed as little impromptu feast in the studio. The if they were old days come back. Antolamp was lighted, the table was spread, nio spent most of them in Golden old Kauffmann produced his cheese, and Square; he was going away soon, he would have had Angelica's servants join said, and returning to his work near them at supper, if she had not laughed Windsor. He had many messages for the proposal off. Lord Henry happened Angelica from his friends there, from Dr. to call in late, on his way to some card- Starr and his seven daughters. party in Berkeley Square. He stared at "They say your room is always ready; the homely gathering, at the old man, at you are never to go anywhere else; it is the little girl, half asleep, swinging her a most agreeable house to live in. The weary legs, with her head against Anto-seven young ladies are charming," said nio's shoulder. Antonio smiling.

He tried to enter into his usual senti

"I cannot spare her yet," said John mental vein of talk with the mistress of Joseph one day when Miss Angel had the house, but she was naturally ab- left the room. "But I am too tender a sorbed, and had no scruples in letting father to oppose her good prospects, and him see that he was in the way. He I shall know how to resign myself to a went off annoyed by his reception. new separation when my child is sum"That one there appears to have some-moned to the sovereign court. Then she thing wrong in the head," said old John Joseph, as Lord Henry walked away. "I spoke to him three times and he did not answer, but examined me as if I were an These English people seem stupid and dull of comprehension."

Qx.

"They are clever enough," said Antonio with a sneer, "and insolent enough at times to require a lesson." His vexation woke up little sleepy Rosa. The child raised her head, and looked round the room with blinking eyes.

shall stay with your friends. I feel sometimes, Antonio, as though I were a foolish old man, and out of place in this brilliant circle. That lord came again this morning with the lady ambassadress. Their manner was extraordinary, but I would not for worlds that Angelica should know it. They are her patrons, they must be humoured by us."

One day Angelica found her father looking very much delighted. Antonio was also in the room, but he seemed annoyed.

"You will love some of them, father, when you know them better - don't be- "A friend had been there," said old lieve cross old Antonio," said Angelica, Joseph, triumphant; "one whose friend"nor let us think of anybody but our-ship might be worth much to them all — selves to-night." She rose from the ta- one who ble, and came round to where Antonio was sitting.

"Look at this child, she is half asleep," said Antonio, softening, as he usually did at Miss Angel's approach.

"It is that man from Venice," said Antonio. "I do not see how any of us can profit by his coming."

"Count de Horn? I shall be very glad to see him," said Miss Angel, laughing, "Give her to me, Antonio," said Angel. and sitting down at her easel. "Was he "Come, Rosa, I will put you into your lit- nice, father? Was he glad to see us estle bed," and then she opened her armstablished in our splendour ?" and little Rosa nestled into them with lan- "He is coming again," said Zucchi. guid childish trust. The two men got up" You will be able to ask him any quesfrom the table, and followed Miss Angel tions you choose. Your father made him into the adjoining room where Marianna as welcome as if he had been a son of the had made up the little bed in a corner. house." Old Kauffmann began uncording Rosa's box, Angel sat down on the bedside smiling, with a happy grateful heart. Mr. Reynolds was far from her mind as little Rosa slept with her head hanging warm against her shoulder. The little thing woke up when Miss Angel undressed her, but she was soon dreaming again, unconscious of the strange new world

"And does not my father make others welcome, too?" said Angelica, looking round reproachfully.

Antonio shrugged his shoulders. "John Joseph knows well enough who is useful to him," he said.

When Count de Horn called again, as ill luck would have it, Antonio was again there, and more than usually sarcastic.

kitchens below, to the utter amazement of the man and the cook. On another occasion he clambered up to the hangingboard of his own coach. He was very M. de Horn seemed to notice nothing, kind but capricious to his servants and but went on praising picture after picture. dependants. Many tales were told of He even suggested one, of which the sub- his valour and military skill. He had ject was to be a Cupid, with the motto commanded a regiment in the French "Garde à vous." Angelica actually exe-army. People said he was now engaged

dress, would come in from the Duke of Cumberland's, bringing a flavour of highest social refinement.

De Horn sometimes spoke of life in Sweden, of his home at Hafvudsta, with a certain well-bred reserve. Angelica was much interested by the few words he let drop one day concerning his picturegalleries.

"Had he pictures? What pictures?" asked Angelica.

"I trust before long that I may be able to answer your question by pointing to some now in your own studio, madam," he said, with the slow foreign accent. "What charm can those of the old men have for us compared to that which your work must ever exercise?"

This was the style of conversation that Angelica did not object to, though common sense made her reply: "I can imagine that a friend's work may have its own interest; but the old men, as you call them, count," said Miss Angel, coquettishly, "have their own wonderful gifts, which we cannot hope to follow or repeat. What pictures have you? Are they of the Italian school?"

mens of his power. He took leave at the first pause in the conversation. Miss Reynolds came and sat down in the place he had left vacant. "What an actor that man is!" the little lady said; "I wonder whether good judges would agree with me. And yet, oddly enough, it seemed to me for the first time that he was not acting to-night when he performed those characters. Where is your father? why have you not brought him?" "My father is at home," said Miss Angel; "he would not come out."

Happy as he was, and proud of Angelica and her brilliant success, and delighted as he might be by the accounts of her popularity, old Kauffmann felt very forlorn sometimes in the strange Londonworld into which he had penetrated, and even as if Angelica was no longer the same little Angel he had been accustomed to. At first he tried to conceal this feeling for a week after his arrival, and on the following Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, he concealed it; on Friday his depression became too evident for Angel not to guess with her quick wits that something was amiss. The old man spent much of his time in her studio, re

"Yes, yes," said the count, absently. "Your Hobbema painted a very fine por-ceived her guests with the old welltrait of my father

Angelica looked puzzled. The count suddenly began to laugh, and said, "Forgive my distractions, madam, since you are the cause of them. What were we talking about?"

known formula, but, alas, here even his trump-cards, the cardinal and the bishop of Como, seemed to have lost their potency.

dwell upon the faults of the people they love, but it was impossible to be blind to the small social difficulties that arose from time to time.

Angelica used to find it difficult to impress English customs upon old John Jo"We are talking about Dr. Johnson, seph, whose familiarity and obsequiouscount," said one of the ladies present,ness were sometimes a little trying to her who did not wish Angelica to monopo- friends. She was not one of those who lize their lion. "He is expected here presently. Have you ever met him?" "An old man-something like this," said the count, taking a few steps and changing his face. It was a curiously effective piece of mimicry, and the result was so striking that everybody exclaimed, and began to entreat De Horn to perform some other characters. Angelica was scarcely pleased when he suddenly looked at his watch and darted across the room in imitation of Lord W.'s peculiar manner.

People stared at the old fellow, as Lord Hepry had done, some ignored him, some turned away; certainly Lady W. was barely civil to him when she came, and if they had not had that one quarrel already, Angelica would have spoken to her on the subject. But, as it was, she dared risk no more scenes, for she did not feel in herself the strength to with"No, no, no! Lord W. is the kind-stand unkind words and feelings from the est man, the best of creatures," she cried. "I cannot bear to see him imitated."

person to whom she owed so much. Miss Reynolds, who had persisted in her visits, was the one person willing to "And yet you yourself have painted listen while old Kauffmann recounted the his portrait," said De Horn, reproach-present and past glories of Angelica's fully, immediately returning to her side. career. Alas! none were to compare to His looks seemed to say, "I only did it these present honours, and yet were they to please you. I hate the whole thing." happier now than in the old wandering In vain they all begged for further speci-'days when they knew not from hour to