In the air a feather floating,
Tells from whence the breezes blow.--REV. G. MONSELL


The first brightening of the orphaned house of Bankside had been in
Leonard's return. The weeks of his absence had been very sore ones
to Averil, while she commenced the round of duties that were a heavy
burthen for one so young, and became, instead of the petted
favourite, the responsible head of the house.

She was willing and glad to accept the care of her little sisters--
docile bright children--who were pleased to return to the orderly
habits so long interrupted, and were so intelligent, that her task of
teaching was a pleasant one; and almost motherly love towards them
grew up as she felt their dependence on her, and enjoyed their
caresses.

With Henry she had less in common. He expected of her what she had
not learnt, and was not willing to acquire. A man interfering in the
woman's province meets little toleration; and Henry was extremely
precise in his requirements of exact order, punctuality, and
excellence, in all the arrangements of his house. While breaking her
in to housekeeping, he made himself appear almost in the light of a
task-master--and what was worse, of a despised task-master. Averil
thought she could not respect a brother whose displeasure was
manifested by petulance, not sternness, and who cared not only about
his dinner, but about the tidy appearance of the drawing-room--nay,
who called that tasty which she thought vulgar, made things stiff
where she meant them to be easy and elegant, and prepared the place
to be the butt of Tom May's satire.