originality.

In this he succeeded. No one, neither Mr. Wilkins, nor Miss Monro, nor
Mr. Ness, saw what this young couple were about--they did not know it
themselves; but before the summer was over they were desperately in love
with each other, or perhaps I should rather say, Ellinor was desperately
in love with him--he, as passionately as he could be with anyone; but in
him the intellect was superior in strength to either affections or
passions.

The causes of the blindness of those around them were these: Mr. Wilkins
still considered Ellinor as a little girl, as his own pet, his darling,
but nothing more. Miss Monro was anxious about her own improvement. Mr.
Ness was deep in a new edition of "Horace," which he was going to bring
out with notes. I believe Dixon would have been keener sighted, but
Ellinor kept Mr. Corbet and Dixon apart for obvious reasons--they were
each her dear friends, but she knew that Mr. Corbet did not like Dixon,
and suspected that the feeling was mutual.

The only change of circumstances between this year and the previous one
consisted in this development of attachment between the young people.
Otherwise, everything went on apparently as usual. With Ellinor the
course of the day was something like this: up early and into the garden
until breakfast time, when she made tea for her father and Miss Monro in
the dining-room, always taking care to lay a little nosegay of freshly-
gathered flowers by her father's plate. After breakfast, when the
conversation had been on general and indifferent subjects, Mr. Wilkins
withdrew into the little study so often mentioned. It opened out of a
passage that ran between the dining-room and the kitchen, on the left
hand of the hall. Corresponding to the dining-room on the other side of