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Detailed Contents
Preface
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
1. Introduction: Exploring Inner Space
A Brave New World
What Is Cognitive Science?
Representation
Types of Representation
Computation
The Tri-Level Hypothesis
Differing Views of Representation and Computation
The Interdisciplinary Perspective
The Philosophical Approach
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Science and Philosophy
The Psychological Approach
The Cognitive Approach
The Neuroscience Approach
The Network Approach
The Evolutionary Approach
The Linguistic Approach
The Emotion Approach
The Social Approach
The Artificial Intelligence Approach
The Robotics Approach
Integrating Approaches
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 1
2. The Philosophical Approach: Enduring Questions
What Is Philosophy
Chapter Overview
The Mind–Body Problem: What Is Mind?
Monism
Evaluating the Monist Perspective
Dualism
Substance Dualism
Property Dualism
Evaluating the Dualist Perspective
Functionalism: Are Minds Limited to Brains?
 Evaluating the Functionalist Perspective
The Knowledge Acquisition Problem: How Do We Acquire Knowledge?
Evaluating the Knowledge Acquisition Debate
The Mystery of Consciousness: What Is Consciousness and How Does It
Operate?
The What-It’s-Like Argument
Mind as an Emergent Property
Evaluating the Emergent View of Mind
Consciousness: One or Many?
Consciousness and Neuroscience
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Philosophy, Neuroscience, and Binocular
Rivalry
Consciousness and Artificial Intelligence
Overall Evaluation of the Philosophical Approach
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 2
3. The Psychological Approach: A Profusion of Theories
What Is Psychology?
Psychology and the Scientific Method
Mental Atoms, Mental Molecules, and a Periodic Table of the Mind: The
Voluntarist Movement
Evaluating the Voluntarist Approach
Structuralism: What the Mind Is
Evaluating the Structuralist Approach
Functionalism: What the Mind Does
Evaluating the Functionalist Approach
The Whole Is Greater Than the Sum of Its Parts: Mental Physics and the
Gestalt Movement
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Gestalt Phenomenology, Experimental
Psychology, and Perceptual Grouping
Evaluating the Gestalt Approach
Mini Minds: Mechanism and Psychoanalytic Psychology
Evaluating the Psychoanalytic Approach
Mind as a Black Box: The Behaviorist Approach
Evaluating the Behaviorist Approach
Overall Evaluation of the Psychological Approach
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 3
4. The Cognitive Approach I: Vision, Pattern Recognition, and Attention
Some History First: The Rise of Cognitive Psychology
The Cognitive Approach: Mind as an Information Processor
Modularity of Mind
 Evaluating the Modular Approach
Theories of Vision and Pattern Recognition: How Do We Recognize Objects?
Template Matching Theory
Evaluating Template Matching Theory
Feature Detection Theory
Evaluating Feature Detection Theory
Recognition by Components Theory
Evaluating Recognition by Components Theory
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Computational Vision and Pattern Recognition
Evaluating the Computational Approach to Vision
Feature Integration Theory
Evaluating Feature Integration Theory
Theories of Attention: How Do We Pay Attention?
Broadbent’s Filter Model
Evaluating the Filter Model
Treisman’s Attenuation Model
The Deutsch-Norman Memory Selection Model
The Multimode Model of Attention
Kahneman’s Capacity Model of Attention
Evaluating the Capacity Model of Attention
Evaluating the Model-Building Approach
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 4
5. The Cognitive Approach II: Memory, Imagery, and Problem Solving
Types of Memory: How Do We Remember?
Sensory Memory
Working Memory
Scanning Items in Working Memory
Long-Term Memory
Memory Models
The Modal Model
Evaluating the Modal Model
The ACT* Model
Evaluating the ACT* Model
The Working Memory Model
Evaluating the Working Memory Model
Visual Imagery: How Do We Imagine?
The Kosslyn and Schwartz Theory of Visual Imagery
Image Structures
Image Processes
Evaluating the Kosslyn and Schwartz Theory
 Problem Solving: How Do We Solve Problems?
The General Problem Solver Model
Evaluating the General Problem Solver Model
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Artificial Intelligence, Problem Solving, and
the SOAR Model
Evaluating the SOAR Model
Overall Evaluation of the Cognitive Approach
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 5
6. The Neuroscience Approach: Mind as Brain
The Neuroscience Perspective
Methodology in Neuroscience
Techniques for the Study of Brain Damage
Evaluating Techniques for the Study of Brain Damage
Traditional Brain Recording Methods
Modern Brain Imaging Methods
Positron Emission Tomography
Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging
Magnetoencephalography
Knife-Edge Scanning Microscope
Brain Stimulation Techniques
Electrode Stimulation
Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation
Optogenetics
The Small Picture: Neuron Anatomy and Physiology
The Big Picture: Brain Anatomy
Directions in the Nervous System
The Cortex
The Split Brain
The Neuroscience of Visual Object Recognition
Visual Agnosias
Apperceptive Agnosia
Associative Agnosia
Face Perception
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Perceptual Binding and Neural Synchrony
The Neuroscience of Attention
Models of Attention
A Component Process Model
Distributed Network Models
Disorders of Attention
Hemispatial Neglect
 Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
The Neuroscience of Memory
Learning and Memory
The Hippocampal System
Neural Substrates of Working Memory
Evaluating the Neuroscience of Working Memory
Neural Substrates of Long-Term Memories
The Neuroscience of Executive Function and Problem Solving
Theories of Executive Function
Overall Evaluation of the Neuroscience Approach
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 6
7. The Network Approach: Mind as a Web
The Network Perspective
Artificial Neural Networks
Characteristics of Artificial Neural Networks
Early Conceptions of Neural Networks
Back Propagation and Convergent Dynamics
NETtalk: An Example of a Back-Propagation Artificial Neural Network
Evaluating the Connectionist Approach
Advantages
Problems and Disadvantages
Semantic Networks: Meaning in the Web
Characteristics of Semantic Networks
A Hierarchical Semantic Network
Evaluating the Hierarchical Model
Propositional Semantic Networks
Evaluating Semantic Networks
Network Science
Centrality
Hierarchical Networks and the Brain
Small-World Networks: It’s a Small World After All
Ordered and Random Connections
Egalitarians and Aristocrats
Neuroscience and Networks
Small-World Networks and Synchrony
Percolation
Percolation and Psychology
The Future of Network Science
Overall Evaluation of the Network Approach
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Emotions and Networks
 Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 7
8. The Evolutionary Approach: Change Over Time
The Evolutionary View
A Little Background: Natural Selection and Genetics
Comparative Cognition
Cognitive Adaptation in Animals
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Evolutionary Processes and Artificial Life
Comparative Neuroscience
Evaluating the Comparative Approach
Evolutionary Psychology
Evolved Psychological Mechanisms
Evolution and Cognitive Processes
Categorization
Memory
Logical Reasoning
Judgment Under Uncertainty
Language
Behavioral Economics: How We Think About Profit and Loss
Sex Differences in Cognition
Evaluating Evolutionary Psychology
Overall Evaluation of the Evolutionary Approach
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 8
9. The Linguistic Approach: Language and Cognitive Science
The Linguistic Approach: The Importance of Language
The Nature of Language
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Language, Philosophy, and the Linguistic
Relativity Hypothesis
Evaluating the Linguistic Relativity Hypothesis
Language Use in Primates
Evaluating Language Use in Primates
Language Acquisition
Domain-General and Domain-Specific Mechanisms in Language
Acquisition
Evaluating Language Acquisition
Language Deprivation
Evaluating Language Deprivation
Cognition and Linguistics: The Role of Grammar
Evaluating Universal Grammar
Neuroscience and Linguistics: The Wernicke-Geschwind Model
Evaluating the Wernicke-Geschwind Model
 Artificial Intelligence and Linguistics: Natural Language Processing
Speech Recognition
Syntactic Analysis
Semantic Analysis
Pragmatic Analysis
Computer Language Programs and IBM’s Watson
Evaluation of Natural Language Processing
Overall Evaluation of the Linguistic Approach
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 9
10. The Emotional Approach: Mind as Emotion
Emotion and Cognitive Science
What Is Emotion?
Theories of Emotion
Basic Emotions
Emotions, Evolution, and Psychological Disorders
Disgust
Fear
Anger
Sadness
Happiness
Emotions and Neuroscience
The Chemical and Electrical Basis of Emotional Computation
Hot and Cold: Emotion–Cognition Interactions
Emotion and Perception/Attention
Emotion and Memory
Emotion, Mood, and Memory
Emotion and Decision Making
Emotions and Reasoning by Analogy
Emotions and Artificial Intelligence: Affective Computing
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Emotion, Robotics, and the Kismet Project
Overall Evaluation of the Emotional Approach
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 10
11. The Social Approach: Mind as Society
Social Cognition
Social Cognitive Neuroscience
Topics in Social Cognitive Neuroscience
Evolution
Attention
Mirror Neurons
Social Cognition as the Brain’s Default State
 Is Social Cognitive Neuroscience Special?
Advantages of the Social Cognitive Neuroscience Approach
Theory of Mind
ToM and Neuroscience
Autism
Autism and ToM
Other Social Cognitive Disorders
Attitudes
Cognitive Dissonance
Attitudes and Cognitive Processes
Perception
Attention
Interpretation
Learning
Memory
Attitudes and Neuroscience
Impressions
The Dual-Process Model of Impression Formation
Attribution
Attribution Biases
Attribution and Cognitive Processes
Attribution and Neuroscience
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Game Theory and the Prisoner’s Dilemma
Stereotypes
Stereotypes and Cognitive Processes
In-Groups and Out-Groups
Automatic Stereotyping
Stereotyping and Neuroscience
Prejudice
The Stereotype Content Model of Prejudice
Overall Evaluation of the Social Approach
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 11
12. The Artificial Intelligence Approach: The Computer as a Cognitive Entity
Cognitive Science and Artificial Intelligence
Historical Precursors
Defining AI
Doctrinal Arguments
Turing’s Critical Legacy
Practical AI
Fuzzy Thinking: The Legacy of Lotfi Zadeh
 The Contentious Debate and AI Evolution
The Neural Network Model and Its Capabilities
The New Millennium: Cognitive Computing (Is It Possible to “Build” a
Brain?)
Emergent Neuron Models: Precursors to Intelligent Agents
Organization of the Neocortex
An Auto-Associative Model for the Neocortical Column
The DARPA SyNAPSE Program
Emerging Physiological and Other Developments
Evaluation of AI
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Physiology, Psychology, Neuroscience,
Computer Science, AI, and Rehabilitation Medicine
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 12
13. Intelligent Agents and Robots
Introduction
The Intelligent Agent Paradigm
Why Biology Is Important
Modeling Aspects of Biological Systems
Applying the Principles to the Design of IAs
IA Architectures and Their Uses
Reactive Architectures
Deliberative Architectures
Belief-Desire-Intention (BDI) Architecture
Blackboard (Cooperative) Architectures
Emerging Developments
Ben Goertzel and Artificial General Intelligence
Social Robots and Their Emotional Substructures
The Agent as an Emotion Machine
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Physiology, Psychology, Neuroscience,
Computer Science, AI, Engineering, and Rehabilitation Medicine
Overall Evaluation of IA Embodiments
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 13
14. Conclusion: Where We Go From Here
The Benefits of Cognitive Science
Issues in Cognitive Science
Physical Environments
Individual and Cultural Differences
Consciousness
Lack of a Unified Theory
The Dynamical Systems Approach
 Nonlinearity
Predictability
State Space and Trajectories
Attractors
Dynamical Representation
Symbolic Dynamics
Interdisciplinary Crossroads: Multiple Approaches to Levels of Explanation
in Cognitive Science
Dynamical Versus Classical Cognitive Science
The Continuity of Mind
Modularity Versus Distribularity
Component-Dominant Versus Interaction-Dominant Dynamics
Internalism Versus Externalism
Situated Versus Embodied Cognition
Feed-Forward Versus Recurrent Pathways
Evaluating the Dynamical Perspective
Integrating Cognitive Science
Integration Across Levels of Description
Integration Across Disciplines
Integration Across Methodologies
The Future
Summing Up: A Review of Chapter 14
Glossary
References
Name Index
Subject Index
Preface

One of the most challenging mysteries remaining to science is the human mind. The
brain that forms the basis of mind is the most complex object in the universe. It is made
up of billions of cells sending signals back and forth to each other over many more
billions of connections. How can we make sense of all this? Recent years have seen
great strides in our understanding, and this has been due in part to developments in
technology. In this book, we provide an up-to-date introduction to the study of mind,
examining it from an interdisciplinary perspective. We attempt to understand the mind
from the perspective of different fields. Among these are philosophy, psychology,
neuroscience, networks, evolution, emotional and social cognition, linguistics, artificial
intelligence, and robotics. Beyond this, we make attempts to bridge some of these
fields, showing what research at the intersection of these disciplines is like. Each
chapter in this text is devoted to a particular disciplinary approach and examines the
methodologies, theories, and empirical findings unique to each. Come with us as we
explore the next great frontier—our inner world.
What’s New in This Edition
New content has been added throughout. The topic of empirical philosophy is
introduced in Chapter 1 as an expanded section on formal systems, the physical symbol
system hypothesis, and the symbol grounding problem. In Chapter 4, there is greater
discussion on theories of pattern recognition and depth perception. One of the latest
methods in neuroscience, the measuring and stimulation of individual neurons by light
(optogenetics) is detailed in Chapter 6. In Chapter 8, the authors discuss the concept of
neural markers for intelligence in animals and humans, what are called spindle neurons,
as well as the idea of anthropodenial when observing animal behavior. Chapter 9 on
language has an entirely new section on domain-specific versus domain-general
mechanisms in language acquisition. New artificial intelligence programs with world
knowledge and conversational skill are outlined in this chapter as well. Chapter 10 on
emotions has substantially new information added on basic emotions and on the
relationship between emotions, evolutionary processes, and psychological disorders.
Chapter 12 includes substantially new information on cognitive computing and ongoing
research related to fabrication of the neocortex. Chapter 13 introduces advanced
robotic concepts and applications as well as thought control of bionic limbs. Finally, in
Chapter 14, there is discussion of the “WEIRD” model of cross-cultural testing. Other
new features and benefits include in-depth topics now inserted into the body of the text
where they expand and apply general principles and added discussion that integrates
the various perspectives in cognitive science more tightly. Chapter introductions better
preview what is to come to help students organize information. There are also new
figures and tables that help summarize and differentiate important definitions.
Beyond the Book
The text comes with many ancillary materials. A password-protected Instructor’s
Resource Site (http://study.sagepub.com/friedenberg3e) contains PowerPoint
lectures, a test bank, and other pedagogical material. A Student Study Site is also
available online at http://study.sagepub.com/friedenberg3e. It contains electronic
flash cards of glossary terms, practice quizzes that allow students to assess their level
of understanding, and various web links to explore selected topics in greater depth.
Acknowledgments

We would like to acknowledge the efforts of our editors at SAGE for their assistance
and the following reviewers:

Emanuel J. Mason, Professor, Northeastern University

R. I. Arriaga, Georgia Institute of Technology
Michael J. Tetzlaff, University of Maryland, College Park
Robin Andreasen, University of Delaware
Karl Haberlandt, Trinity College
Marc Pomplun, University of Massachusetts at Boston
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
as the vehicle drew up, and came to the door like a man to receive his
sisters. A gentleman stood by watching the whole scene with a little
amusement—the shy girls, the big brother, the officious American. This was
a man of singularly pale complexion, very black hair, and a face over which
the skin seemed to be strained so tight that his features were almost ghastly.
He was old, but he did not look like his age; and it was impossible to
suppose that he ever could have looked young. His smile was not at all a
pleasant smile. Though it came upon his face by his own will, he seemed to
have no power of putting it off again; and it grew into a faint spasmodic
sneer, offensive and repellent. Charlie looked him in the face with a sudden
impulse of pugnacity—he looked at Charlie with this bloodless and
immovable smile. The lad positively lingered, though his fly “stopped the
way,” to bestow another glance upon this remarkable personage, and their
eyes met in a full and mutual stare. Whether either person, the old man or
the youth, were moved by a thrill of presentiment, we are not able to say;
but there was little fear hereafter of any want of mutual recognition. Despite
the world of social distinction, age, and power which lay between them,
Charlie Atheling looked at Lord Winterbourne, and Lord Winterbourne
looked at Charlie. It was their first point of contact; neither of them could
read the fierce mutual conflict, the ruin, despair, and disgrace which lay in
the future, in that first look of impulsive hostility; but as the great man
entered his carriage, and the boy plunged into the fly, their thoughts for the
moment were full of each other—so full that neither could understand the
sudden distinct recognition of this first touch of fate.
“No; mamma was quite right,” said Agnes; “we cannot be great friends
nor very happy with people so different from ourselves.”
And the girls sighed. They were pleased, yet they were disappointed. It
was impossible to deny that the reality was as far different from the
imagination as anything could be; and really nobody had been in the
smallest degree concerned about the author of Hope Hazlewood. Even
Marian was compelled to acknowledge that.
“But then,” cried this eager young apologist, “they were not literary
people; they were not good judges; they were common people, like what
you might see anywhere, though they might be great ladies and fine
gentlemen; it was easy to see we were not very great, and they did not
understand you.”
 “Hush,” said Agnes quickly; “they were rather kind, I think—especially
Mr Agar; but they did not care at all for us: and why should they, after all?”
“So it was a failure,” said Charlie. “I say, who was that man—that fellow
at the door?”
“Oh, Charlie, you dreadful boy! that was Lord Winterbourne,” cried
Marian. “Mr Agar told us who he was.”
“Who’s Mr Agar?” asked Charlie. “And so that’s him—that’s the man
that will take the Old Wood Lodge! I wish he would. I knew I owed him
something. I’d like to see him try!”
“And Mrs Edgerley is his daughter,” said Agnes. “Is it not strange? And
I suppose we shall all be neighbours in the country. But Mr Endicott said
quite loud, so that everybody could hear, that papa was a friend of Lord
Winterbourne’s. I do not like people to slight us; but I don’t like to deceive
them either. There was that gentleman—that Sir Langham. I suppose he
thought we were great people, Marian, like the rest of the people there.”
In the darkness Marian pouted, frowned, and laughed within herself. “I
don’t think it matters much what Sir Langham thought,” said Marian; for
already the young beauty began to feel her “greatness,” and smiled at her
own power.
 CHAPTER XXIX.

FAMILY SENTIMENTS.

When the fly jumbled into Bellevue, the lighted window, which always
illuminated the little street, shone brighter than ever in the profound
darkness of this late night, when all the respectable inhabitants for more
than an hour had been asleep. Papa and Mamma, somewhat drowsily, yet
with a capacity for immediate waking-up only to be felt under these
circumstances, had unanimously determined to sit up for the girls; and the
window remained bright, and the inmates wakeful, for a full hour after the
rumbling “fly,” raising all the dormant echoes of the neighbourhood, had
rolled off to its nightly shelter. The father and the mother listened with the
most perfect patience to the detail of everything, excited in spite of
themselves by their children’s companionship with “the great,” yet
considerably resenting, and much disappointed by the failure of those grand
visions, in which all night the parental imagination had pictured to itself an
admiring assembly hanging upon the looks of those innocent and simple
girls. Mr and Mrs Atheling on this occasion were somewhat disposed, we
confess, to make out a case of jealousy and malice against the fashionable
guests of Mrs Edgerley. It was always the way, Papa said. They always tried
to keep everybody down, and treated aspirants superciliously; and in the
climax of his indignation, under his breath, he added something about those
“spurns which patient merit of the unworthy takes.” Mrs Atheling did not
quote Shakespeare, but she was quite as much convinced that it was their
“rank in life” which had prevented Agnes and Marian from taking a
sovereign place in the gay assembly they had just left. The girls themselves
gave no distinct judgment on the subject; but now that the first edge of her
mortification had worn off, Agnes began to have great doubts upon this
matter. “We had no claim upon them—not the least,” said Agnes; “they
never saw us before; we were perfect strangers; why should they trouble
themselves about us, simply because I had written a book?”
“Do not speak nonsense, my dear—do not tell me,” said Mrs Atheling,
with agitation: “they had only to use their own eyes and see—as if they
often had such an opportunity! My dear, I know better; you need not speak
to me!”
“And everybody has read your book, Agnes—and no doubt there are
scores of people who would give anything to know you,” said Papa with
dignity. “The author of Hope Hazlewood is a different person from Agnes
Atheling. No, no—it is not that they don’t know your proper place; but they
keep everybody down as long as they can. Now, mind, one day you will
turn the tables upon them; I am very sure of that.”
Agnes said no more, but went up to her little white room completely
unconvinced upon the subject. Miss Willsie saw the tell-tale light in this
little high window in the middle of the night—when it was nearly daylight,
the old lady said—throwing a friendly gleam upon the two young
controversialists as they debated this difficult question. Agnes, of course,
with all the heat of youth and innovation, took the extreme side of the
question. “It is easy enough to write—any one can write,” said the young
author, triumphant in her argument, yet in truth somewhat mortified by her
triumph. “But even if it was not, there are greater things in this world than
books, and almost all other books are greater than novels; and I do think it
was the most foolish thing in the world to suppose that clever people like
these—for they were all clever people—would take any notice of me.”
To which arguments, all and several, Marian returned only a direct,
unhesitating, and broad negative. It was not easy to write, and there were
not greater things than books, and it was not at all foolish to expect a
hundred times more than ever their hopes had expected. “It is very wrong of
you to say so, Agnes,” said Marian. “Papa is quite right; it will all be as
different as possible by-and-by; and if you have nothing more sensible to
say than that, I shall go to sleep.”
Saying which, Marian turned round upon her pillow, virtuously resisted
all further temptations, and closed her beautiful eyes upon the faint grey
dawn which began to steal in between the white curtains. They thought their
minds were far too full to go to sleep. Innocent imaginations! five minutes
after, they were in the very sweetest enchanted country of the true fairyland
of dreams.
While Charlie, in his sleep in the next room, laboriously struggled all
night with a bloodless apparition, which smiled at him from an open
doorway—fiercely fought and struggled against it—mastered it—got it
down, but only to begin once more the tantalising combat. When he rose in
the morning, early as usual, the youth set his teeth at the recollection, and
with an attempt to give a reason for this instinctive enmity, fiercely hoped
that Lord Winterbourne would try to take from his father his little
inheritance. Charlie, who was by no means of a metaphysical turn, did not
trouble himself at all to inquire into the grounds of his own unusual
pugnacity. He “knew he owed him something,” and though my Lord
Winterbourne was a viscount and an ex-minister, and Charlie only a poor
man’s son and a copying-clerk, he fronted the great man’s image with
indomitable confidence, and had no more doubt of his own prowess than of
his entire goodwill in the matter. He did not think very much more of his
opponent in this case than he did of the big folios in the office, and had as
entire confidence in his own ability to bring the enemy down.
But it was something of a restless night to Papa and Mamma. They too
talked in their darkened chamber, too proper and too economical to waste
candlelight upon subjects so unprofitable, of old events and people half
forgotten;—how the first patroness of Agnes should be the daughter of the
man between whom and themselves there existed some unexplained
connection of old friendship or old enmity, or both;—how circumstances
beyond their guidance conspired to throw them once more in the way of
persons and plans which they had heard nothing of for more than twenty
years. These things were very strange and troublous events to Mr Atheling
and his wife. The past, which nearer grief and closer pleasure—all their
family life, full as that was of joy and sorrow—had thrown so far away and
out of remembrance, came suddenly back before them in all the clearness of
youthful recollection. Old feelings returned strong and fresh into their
minds. They went back, and took up the thread of this history, whatever it
might be, where they had dropped it twenty years ago; and with a thrill of
deeper interest, wondered and inquired how this influence would affect
their children. To themselves now little could happen; their old friend or
their old enemy could do neither harm nor benefit to their accomplished
lives—but the children!—the children, every one so young, so hopeful, and
so well endowed; all so strangely brought into sudden contact, at a double
point, with this one sole individual, who had power to disturb the rest of the
father and the mother. They relapsed into silence suddenly, and were
quieted by the thought.
 “It is not our doing—it is not our seeking,” said Mr Atheling at length.
“If the play wants a last act, Mary, it will not be your planning nor mine;
and as for the children, they are in the hands of God.”
So in the grey imperfect dawn which lightened on the faces of the
sleeping girls, whose sweet youthful rest was far too deep to be broken even
by the growing light, these elder people closed their eyes, not to sleep, but
to pray. If evil were about to come—if danger were lurking in the air around
them—they had this only defence against it. It was not the simple faith of
youth which dictated these prayers; it was a deeper and a closer urgency,
which cried aloud and would not cease, but yet was solemn with the
remembrance of times when God’s pleasure was not to grant them their
petitions. The young ones slept in peace, but with fights and triumphs
manifold in their young dreams. The father and the mother held a vigil for
them, holding up holy hands for their defence and safety; and so the
morning came at last, brightly, to hearts which feared no evil, or when they
feared, put their apprehensions at once into the hand of God.
 CHAPTER XXX.

AGNES’S FORTUNE.

The morning, like a good fairy, came kindly to these good people,
increasing in the remembrance of the girls the impression of pleasure, and
lessening that of disappointment. They came, after all, to be very well
satisfied with their reception at Mrs Edgerley’s. And now her second and
most important invitation remained to be discussed—the Willows—the
pretty house at Richmond, with the river running sweetly under the shadow
of its trees; the company, which was sure to include, as Mr Agar said, some
people worth knowing, and which that ancient connoisseur himself did not
refuse to join. Agnes and Marian looked with eager eyes on the troubled
brow of Mamma; a beautiful vision of the lawn and the river, flowers and
sunshine, the sweet silence of “the country,” and the unfamiliar music of
running water and rustling trees, possessed the young imaginations for the
time to the total disregard of all sublunary considerations. They did not
think for a moment of Lord Winterbourne’s daughter, and the strange
chance which could make them inmates of her house; for Lord
Winterbourne himself was not a person of any importance in the estimation
of the girls. But more than that, they did not even think of their wardrobe,
important as that consideration was; they did not recollect how entirely
unprovided they were for such a visit, nor how the family finances, strait
and unelastic, could not possibly stretch to so new and great an expenditure.
But all these things, which brought no cloud upon Agnes and Marian,
conspired to embarrass the brow of the family mother. She thought at the
same moment of Lord Winterbourne and of the brown merinos; of this
strange acquaintanceship, mysterious and full of fate as it seemed; and of
the little black silk cloaks which were out of fashion, and the bonnets with
the faded ribbons. It was hard to deny the girls so great a pleasure; but how
could it be done?
And for a day or two following the household remained in great
uncertainty upon this point, and held every evening, on the engrossing
subject of ways and means, a committee of the whole house. This, however,
we are grieved to say, was somewhat of an unprofitable proceeding; for the
best advice which Papa could give on so important a subject was, that the
girls must of course have everything proper if they went. “If they went!—
that is exactly the question,” said the provoked and impatient ruler of all.
“But are they to go? and how are we to get everything proper for them?” To
these difficult questions Mr Atheling attempted no answer. He was a wise
man, and knew his own department, and prudently declined any
interference in the legitimate domain of the other head of the house.
Mrs Atheling was by no means addicted to disclosing the private matters
of her own family life, yet she carried this important question through the
faded wallflowers to crave the counsel of Miss Willsie. Miss Willsie was
not at all pleased to have such a matter submitted to her. Her supreme
satisfaction would have lain in criticising, finding fault, and helping on.
Now reduced to the painful alternative of giving an opinion, the old lady
pronounced a vague one in general terms, to the effect that if there was one
thing she hated, it was to see poor folk striving for the company of them
that were in a different rank in life; but whenever this speech was made, and
her conscience cleared, Miss Willsie began to inquire zealously what “the
silly things had,” and what they wanted, and set about a mental turning over
of her own wardrobe, where were a great many things which she had worn
in her own young days, and which were “none the worse,” as she said—but
they were not altogether adapted for the locality of the Willows. Miss
Willsie turned them over not only in her own mind, but in her own parlour,
where her next visitor found her as busy with her needle and her shears as
any cottar matron ever was, and anxiously bent on the same endeavour to
“make auld things look amaist as weel’s the new.” It cost Miss Willsie an
immense deal of trouble, but it was not half so successful a business as the
repairs of that immortal Saturday Night.
But the natural course of events, which had cleared their path for them
many times before, came in once more to make matters easy. Mr
Burlington, of whom nothing had been heard since the day of that eventful
visit to his place—Mr Burlington, who since then had brought out a second
edition of Hope Hazlewood, announced himself ready to “make a proposal”
for the book. Now, there had been many and great speculations in the house
on this subject of “Agnes’s fortune.” They were as good at the magnificent
arithmetic of fancy as Major Pendennis was, and we will not say that, like
him, they had not leaped to their thousands a-year. They had all, however,
been rather prudent in committing themselves to a sum—nobody would
guess positively what it was to be—but some indefinite and fabulous
amount, a real fortune, floated in the minds of all: to the father and mother a
substantial provision for Agnes, to the girls an inexhaustible fund of
pleasure, comfort, and charity. The proposal came—it was not a fabulous
and magnificent fortune, for the author of Hope Hazlewood was only Agnes
Atheling, and not Arthur Pendennis. For the first moment, we are compelled
to confess, they looked at each other with blank faces, entirely cast down
and disappointed: it was not an inexhaustible fairy treasure—it was only a
hundred and fifty pounds.
Yes, most tender-hearted reader! these were not the golden days of Sir
Walter, nor was this young author a literary Joan of Arc. She got her fortune
in a homely fashion like other people—at first was grievously disappointed
about it—formed pugnacious resolutions, and listened to all the evil stories
of the publishing ghouls with satisfaction and indignant faith. But by-and-
by this angry mood softened down; by-and-by the real glory of such an
unrealisable heap of money began to break upon the girls. A hundred and
fifty pounds, and nothing to do with it—no arrears to pay—nothing to make
up—can any one suppose a position of more perfect felicity? They came to
see it bit by bit dawning upon them in gradual splendour—content
blossomed into satisfaction, satisfaction unfolded into delight. And then to
think of laying by such a small sum would be foolish, as the girls reasoned;
so its very insignificance increased the pleasure. It was not a dull treasure,
laid up in a bank, or “invested,” as Papa had solemnly proposed to invest
“Agnes’s fortune;” it was a delightful little living stream of abundance,
already in imagination overflowing and brightening everything. It would
buy Mamma the most magnificent of brocades, and Bell and Beau such
frocks as never were seen before out of fairyland. It would take them all to
the Old Wood Lodge, or even to the seaside; it would light up with books
and pictures, and pretty things, the respectable family face of Number Ten,
Bellevue. There was no possibility of exhausting the capacities of this
marvellous sum of money, which, had it been three or four times as much,
as the girls discovered, could not have been half as good for present
purposes. The delight of spending money was altogether new to them: they
threw themselves into it with the most gleeful abandonment (in
imagination), and threw away their fortune royally, and with genuine
enjoyment in the process; and very few millionaires have ever found as
much pleasure in the calculation of their treasures as Agnes and Marian
Atheling, deciding over and over again how they were to spend it, found in
this hundred and fifty pounds.
In the mean time, however, Papa carried it off to the office, and locked it
up there for security—for they all felt that it would not be right to trust to
the commonplace defences of Bellevue with such a prodigious sum of
money in the house.
 CHAPTER XXXI.

EXTRAVAGANCE.

It was a July day, brilliant and dazzling; the deep-blue summer sky arched
over these quiet houses, a very heaven of sunshine and calm; the very
leaves were golden in the flood of light, and grateful shadows fell from the
close walls, and a pleasant summer fragrance came from within the little
enclosures of Bellevue. Nothing was stirring in the silent little suburban
street—the very sounds came slow and soft through the luxurious noonday
air, into which now and then blew the little capricious breath of a cool
breeze, like some invisible fairy fan making a current in the golden
atmosphere. Safe under the shelter of green blinds and opened windows, the
feminine population reposed in summer indolence, mistresses too languid to
scold, and maids to be improved by the same. In the day, the other half of
mankind, all mercantile and devoted to business, deserted Bellevue and
perhaps were not less drowsy in their several offices, where dust had to
answer all the purpose of those trim venetian defences, than their wives and
daughters were at home.
But before the door of Number Ten stood a vehicle—let no one scorn its
unquestioned respectability,—it was The Fly. The fly was drawn by an old
white horse, of that bony and angular development peculiar to this rank of
professional eminence. This illustrious animal gave character and
distinction at once to the equipage. The smartest and newest brougham in
existence, with such a steed attached to it, must at once have taken rank, in
the estimation of all beholders, as a true and unmistakable Fly. The
coachman was in character; he had a long white livery-coat, and a hat very
shiny, and bearing traces of various indentations. As he sat upon his box in
the sunshine, he nodded in harmony with the languid branches of the lilac-
bushes. Though he was not averse to a job, he marvelled much how
anybody who could stay at home went abroad under this burning sun, or
troubled themselves with occupations. So too thought the old white horse,
switching his old white tail in vain pursuit of the summer flies which
troubled him; and so even thought Hannah, Miss Willsie’s pretty maid, as
she looked out from the gate of Killiecrankie Lodge, shading her eyes with
her hand, marvelling, half in envy, half in pity, how any one could think
even of “pleasuring” on such a day.
With far different sentiments from these languid and indolent observers,
the Athelings prepared for their unusual expedition. Firmly compressed into
Mrs Atheling’s purse were five ten-pound notes, crisp and new, and the
girls, with a slight tremor of terror enhancing their delight, had secretly
vowed that Mamma should not be permitted to bring anything in the shape
of money home. They were going to spend fifty pounds. That was their
special mission—and when you consider that very rarely before had they
helped at the spending of more than fifty shillings, you may fancy the
excitement and delight of this family enterprise. They had calculated
beforehand what everything was to cost—they had left a margin for
possibilities—they had all their different items written down on a very long
piece of paper, and now the young ladies were dancing Bell and Beau
through the garden, and waiting for Mamma.
For the twin babies were to form part of this most happy party. Bell and
Beau were to have an ecstatic drive in that most delightful of carriages
which the two big children and the two little ones at present stood regarding
with the sincerest admiration. If Agnes had any doubt at all about the fly, it
was a momentary fear lest somebody should suppose it to be their own
carriage—a contingency not at all probable. In every other view of the
question, the fly was scarcely second even to Mrs Edgerley’s sublime and
stately equipage; and it is quite impossible to describe the rapture with
which this magnificent vehicle was contemplated by Bell and Beau.
At last Mamma came down stairs in somewhat of a flutter, and by no
means satisfied that she was doing right in thus giving in to the girls. Mrs
Atheling still, in spite of all their persuasions, could not help thinking it
something very near a sin to spend wilfully, and at one doing, so
extraordinary a sum as fifty pounds—“a quarter’s income!” she said
solemnly. But Papa was very nearly as foolish on the subject as Agnes and
Marian, and the good mother could not make head against them all. She
was alarmed at this first outbreak of “awful” extravagance, but she could
not quite refuse to be pleased either with the pleasant piece of business,
with the delight of the girls, and the rapture of the babies, nor to feel the
glory in her own person of “shopping” on so grand a scale—
 “My sister and my sister’s child,
Myself and children three.”

The fly was not quite so closely packed as the chaise of Mrs Gilpin, yet it
was very nearly as full as that renowned conveyance. They managed to get
in “five precious souls,” and the white horse languidly set out upon his
journey, and the coachman, only half awake, still nodded on his box. Where
they went to, we will not betray their confidence by telling. It was an erratic
course, and included all manner of shops and purchases. Before they had
got nearly to the end of their list, they were quite fatigued with their
labours, and found it rather cumbrous, after all, to choose the shops they
wanted from the “carriage” windows, a splendid but inconvenient necessity.
Then Bell and Beau grew very tired, wanted to go home, and were scarcely
to be solaced even with cakes innumerable. Perfect and unmixed delights
are not to be found under the sun; and though the fly went back to Bellevue
laden with parcels beyond the power of arithmetic; though the girls had
accomplished their wicked will, and the purse of Mrs Atheling had shrunk
into the ghost of its former size, yet the accomplished errand was not half so
delightful as were those exuberant and happy intentions, which could now
be talked over no more. They all grew somewhat silent, as they drove home
—“vanity of vanities—” Mrs Atheling and her daughters were in a highly
reflective state of mind, and rather given to moralising; while extremely
wearied, sleepy, and uncomfortable were poor little Bell and Beau.
But at last they reached home—at last the pleasant sight of Susan, and
the fragrance of the tea, which, as it was now pretty late in the afternoon,
Susan had prepared to refresh them, restored their flagging spirits. They
began to open out their parcels, and fight their battles over again. They
examined once more, outside and inside, the pretty little watches which
Papa had insisted on as the first of all their purchases. Papa thought a watch
was a most important matter—the money spent in such a valuable piece of
property was invested; and Mrs Atheling herself, as she took her cup of tea,
looked at these new acquisitions with extreme pride, good pleasure, and a
sense of importance. They had put their bonnets on the sofa—the table
overflowed with rolls of silk and pieces of ribbon half unfolded; Bell and
Beau, upon the hearth-rug, played with the newest noisiest toys which could
be found for them; and even Susan, when she came to ask if her mistress
would take another cup, secretly confessed within herself that there never
was such a littered and untidy room.
When there suddenly came a dash and roll of rapid wheels, ringing into
all the echoes. Suddenly, with a gleam and bound, a splendid apparition
crossed the window, and two magnificent bay-horses drove up before the
little gate. Her very watch, new and well-beloved, almost fell from the
fingers of Agnes. They looked at each other with blank faces—they listened
in horror to the charge of artillery immediately discharged upon their door
—nobody had self-possession to apprehend Susan on the way, and exhort
her to remember the best room. And Susan, greatly fluttered, forgot the sole
use of this sacred apartment. They all stood dismayed, deeply sensible of
the tea upon the table, and the extraordinary confusion of the room, when
suddenly into the midst of them, radiant and splendid, floated Mrs Edgerley
—Mayfair come to visit Bellevue.
 CHAPTER XXXII.

A GREAT VISITOR.

Mayfair came in, radiant, blooming, splendid, with a rustle of silks, a

flutter of feathers, an air of fragrance, like a fairy creature not to be
molested by the ruder touches of fortune or the world. Bellevue stood up to
receive her in the person of Mrs Atheling, attired in a black silk gown which
had seen service, and hastily setting down a cup of tea from her hand. The
girls stood between the two, an intermediate world, anxious and yet afraid
to interpret between them; for Marian’s beautiful hair had fallen down upon
her white neck, and Agnes’s collar had been pulled awry, and her pretty
muslin dress sadly crushed and broken by the violent hands of Bell and
Beau. The very floor on which Mrs Edgerley’s pretty foot pressed the
much-worn carpet, was strewed with little frocks for those unruly little
people. The sofa was occupied by three bonnets, and Mamma’s new dress
hung over the back of the easy-chair. You may laugh at this account of it,
but Mamma, and Marian, and Agnes were a great deal more disposed to cry
at the reality. To think that, of all days in the world, this great lady should
have chosen to come to-day!
“Now, pray don’t let me disturb anything. Oh, I am so delighted to find
you quite at home! It is quite kind of you to let me come in,” cried Mrs
Edgerley—“and indeed you need not introduce me. When one has read
Hope Hazlewood, one knows your mamma. Oh, that charming, delightful
book! Now, confess you are quite proud of her. I am sure you must be.”
“She is a very good girl,” said Mrs Atheling doubtfully, flattered, but not
entirely pleased—“and we are very deeply obliged to Mrs Edgerley for the
kindness she has shown to our girls.”
“Oh, I have been quite delighted,” said Mayfair; “but pray don’t speak in
the third person. How charmingly fragrant your tea is!—may I have some?
How delightful it must be to be able to keep rational hours. What lovely
children! What beautiful darlings! Are they really yours?”
“My youngest babies,” said Bellevue, somewhat stiffly, yet a little
moved by the question. “We have just come in, and were fatigued. Agnes,
my dear!”
But Agnes was already gone, seizing the opportunity to amend her collar,
while Marian put away the bonnets, and cleared the parcels from the feet of
Mrs Edgerley. With this pretty figure half-bending before her, and the other
graceful cup-bearer offering her the homely refreshment she had asked for,
Mrs Edgerley, though quite aware of it, did not think half so much as Mrs
Atheling did about their “rank in life.” The great lady was not at all nervous
on this subject, but was most pleasantly and meritoriously conscious, as she
took her cup of tea from the hand of Agnes, that by so doing she set them
all “at their ease.”
“And pray, do tell me now,” said Mrs Edgerley, “how you manage in this
quarter, so far from everything? It is quite delightful, half as good as a
desolate island—such a pretty, quiet place! You must come to the Willows
—I have quite made up my mind and settled it: indeed, you must come—so
many people are dying to know you. And I must have your mamma know,”
said the pretty flutterer, turning round to Mrs Atheling with that air of
irresistible caprice and fascinating despotism which was the most amazing
thing in the world to the family mother, “that no one ever resists me: I am
always obeyed, I assure you. Oh, you must come; I consider it quite a
settled thing. Town gets so tiresome just at this time—don’t you think so? I
always long for the Willows—for it is really the sweetest place, and in the
country one cares so much more for one’s home.”
“You are very kind,” said Mrs Atheling, not knowing what other answer
to make, and innocently supposing that her visitor had paused for a reply.
“Oh, I assure you, nothing of the kind—perfectly selfish, on the
contrary,” said Mrs Edgerley, with a sweet smile. “I shall be so charmed
with the society of my young friends. I quite forgot to ask if you were
musical. We have the greatest little genius in the world at the Willows. Such
a voice!—it is a shame to hide such a gift in a drawing-room. She is—a sort
of connection—of papa’s family. I say it is very good of him to
acknowledge her even so far, for people seldom like to remember their
follies; but of course the poor child has no position, and I have even been
blamed for having her in my house. She is quite a genius—wonderful: she
ought to be a singer—it is quite her duty—but such a shy foolish young
creature, and not to be persuaded. What charming tea! I am quite refreshed,
I assure you. Oh, pray, do not disturb anything. I am so pleased you have let
me come when you were quite at home. Now, Tuesday, remember! We shall
have a delightful little party. I know you will quite enjoy it. Good-by, little
darlings. On Tuesday, my love; you must on no account forget the day.”
“But I am afraid they will only be a trouble—and they are not used to
society,” said Mrs Atheling, rising hastily before her visitor should have
quite flown away; “they have never been away from home. Excuse me—I
am afraid——”
“Oh, I assure you, nobody ever resists me,” cried Mrs Edgerley,
interrupting this speech; “I never hear such a naughty word as No. It is not
possible—you cannot conceive how it would affect me; I should break my
heart! It is quite decided—oh, positively it is—Tuesday—I shall so look
forward to it! And a charming little party we shall be—not too many, and so
congenial! I shall quite long for the day.”
Saying which, Mrs Edgerley took her departure, keeping up her stream
of talk while they all attended her to the door, and suffering no interruption.
Mrs Atheling was by no means accustomed to so dashing and sudden an
assault. She began slowly to bring up her reasons for declining the
invitation as the carriage rolled away, carrying with it her tacit consent. She
was quite at a loss to believe that this visit was real, as she returned into the
encumbered parlour—such haste, patronage, and absoluteness were entirely
out of Mrs Atheling’s way.
“I have no doubt she is very kind,” said the good mother, puzzled and
much doubting; “but I am not at all sure that I approve of her—indeed, I
think I would much rather you did not go.”
“But she will expect us, mamma,” said Agnes.
That was unquestionable. Mrs Atheling sat very silent all the remainder
of the day, pondering much upon this rapid and sudden visitation, and
blaming herself greatly for her want of readiness. And then the “poor child”
who had no position, and whose duty it was to be a singer, was she a proper
person to breathe the same air as Agnes and Marian? Bellevue was straiter
in its ideas than Mayfair. The mother reflected with great self-reproach and
painful doubts; for the girls were so pleased with the prospect, and it was so
hard to deny them the expected pleasure. Mrs Atheling at last resigned
herself with a sigh. “If you must go, I expect you to take great care whom
you associate with,” said Mrs Atheling, very pointedly; and she sent off
their new purchases up-stairs, and gave her whole attention, with a certain
energy and impatience, to the clearing of the room. This had not been by
any means a satisfactory day.
 CHAPTER XXXIII.

GOING FROM HOME.

“My dear children,” said Mrs Atheling solemnly, “you have never been
from home before.”
Suddenly arrested by the solemnity of this preamble, the girls paused—
they were just going up-stairs to their own room on the last evening before
setting out for the Willows. Marian’s pretty arms were full of a collection of
pretty things, white as the great apron with which Susan had girded her.
Agnes carried her blotting-book, two or three other favourite volumes, and
a candle. They stood in their pretty sisterly conjunction, almost leaning
upon each other, waiting with youthful reverence for the address which
Mamma was about to deliver. It was true they were leaving home for the
first time, and true also that the visit was one of unusual importance. They
prepared to listen with great gravity and a little awe.
“My dears, I have no reason to distrust your good sense,” said Mrs
Atheling, “nor indeed to be afraid of you in any way—but to be in a strange
house is very different from being at home. Strangers will not have the
same indulgence as we have had for all your fancies—you must not expect
it; and people may see that you are of a different rank in life, and perhaps
may presume upon you. You must be very careful. You must not copy Mrs
Edgerley, or any other lady, but observe what they do, and rule yourselves
by it; and take great care what acquaintances you form; for even in such a
house as that,” said Mamma, with emphasis and dignity, suddenly
remembering the “connection of the family” of whom Mrs Edgerley had
spoken, “there may be some who are not fit companions for you.”
“Yes, mamma,” said Agnes. Marian looked down into the apronful of
lace and muslin, and answered nothing. A variable blush and as variable a
smile testified to a little consciousness on the part of the younger sister.
Agnes for once was the more matter-of-fact of the two.
“At your time of life,” continued the anxious mother, “a single day may
have as much effect as many years. Indeed, Marian, my love, it is nothing to
smile about. You must be very careful; and, Agnes, you are the eldest—you
must watch over your sister. Oh, take care!—you do not know how much
harm might be done in a single day.”
“Take care of what, mamma?” said Marian, glancing up quickly, with
that beautiful faint blush, and a saucy gleam in her eye. What do you
suppose she saw as her beautiful eyes turned from her mother with a
momentary imaginative look into the vacant space? Not the big head of
Charlie, bending over the grammars, but the magnificent stature of Sir
Langham Portland, drawn up in sentry fashion by her side; and at the
recollection Marian’s pretty lip could not refuse to smile.
“Hush, my dear!—you may easily know what I mean,” said Mrs
Atheling uneasily. “You must try not to be awkward or timid; but you must
not forget how great a difference there is between Mrs Edgerley’s friends
and you.”
“Nonsense, Mary,” cried her husband, energetically. “No such thing,
girls. Don’t be afraid to let them know who you are, or who you belong to.
But as for inferiority, if you yield to such a notion, you are no girls of mine!
One of the Riverses! A pretty thing! You, at least, can tell any one who asks
the question that your father is an honest man.”
“But I suppose, papa, no one is likely to have any doubt upon the
subject,” said Agnes, with a little spirit. “It will be time enough to publish
that when some one questions it; and that, I am sure, was not what mamma
meant.”
“No, my love, of course not,” said Mamma, who was somewhat agitated.
“What I meant is, that you are going to people whom we used to know—I
mean, whom we know nothing of. They are great people—a great deal
richer and higher in station than we are; and it is possible Papa may be
brought into contact with them about the Old Wood Lodge; and you are
young and inexperienced, and don’t know the dangers you may be
subjected to;—and, my dear children, what I have to say to you is, just to
remember your duty, and read your Bibles, and take care!”
“Mamma! we are only going to Richmond—we are not going away from
you,” cried Marian in dismay.
“My dears,” said Mrs Atheling, putting her handkerchief to her eyes, “I
am an old woman—I know more than you do. You cannot tell where you
are going; you are going into the world.”
 No one spoke for the moment. The young travellers themselves looked at
their mother with concern and a little solemnity. Who could tell? All the
young universe of romance lay at their very feet. They might be going to
their fate.
“And henceforward I know,” said the good mother, rising into homely
and unconscious dignity, “our life will no longer be your boundary, nor our
plans all your guidance. My darlings, it is not any fault of yours; you are
both as obedient as when you were babies; it is Providence, and comes to
every one. You are going away from me, and both your lives may be
determined before you come back again. You, Marian! it is not your fault,
my love; but, oh! take care.”
Under the pressure of this solemn and mysterious caution, the girls at
length went up-stairs. Very gravely they entered the little white room, which
was somewhat disturbed out of its usual propriety, and in respectful silence
Marian began to arrange her burden. She sat down upon the white bed, with
her great white apron full of snowy muslin and dainty morsels of lace,
stooping her beautiful head over them, with her long bright hair falling
down at one side like a golden framework to her sweet cheek. Agnes stood
before her holding the candle. Both were perfectly grave, quite silent,
separating the sleeves and kerchiefs and collars as if it were the most
solemn work in the world.
At length suddenly Marian looked up. In an instant smiles irrestrainable
threaded all the soft lines of those young faces. A momentary electric touch
sent them both from perfect solemnity into saucy and conscious but
subdued laughter. “Agnes! what do you suppose mamma could mean?”
asked Marian; and Agnes said “Hush!” and softly closed the door, lest
Mamma should hear the low and restrained overflow of those sudden
sympathetic smiles. Once more the apparition of the magnificent Sir
Langham gleamed somewhere in a bright corner of Marian’s shining eye.
These incautious girls, like all their happy kind, could not be persuaded to
regard with any degree of terror or solemnity the fate that came in such a
shape as this.
 CHAPTER XXXIV.

EVERYBODY’S FANCIES.

But the young adventurers had sufficient time to speculate upon their
“fate,” and to make up their minds whether this journey of theirs was really
a fortnight’s visit to Richmond, or a solemn expedition into the world, as
they drove along the pleasant summer roads on their way to the Willows.
They had leisure enough, but they had not inclination; they were somewhat
excited, but not at all solemnised. They thought of the unknown paradise to
which they were going—of their beautiful patroness and her guests; but
they never paused to inquire, as they bowled pleasantly along under the
elms and chestnuts, anything at all about their fate.
“How grave every one looked,” said Marian. “What are all the people
afraid of? for I am sure Miss Willsie wanted us to go, though she was so
cross; and poor Harry Oswald, how he looked last night!”
At this recollection Marian smiled. To tell the truth, she was at present
only amused by the gradual perception dawning upon her of the unfortunate
circumstances of these young gentlemen. She might never have found it out
had she known only Harry Oswald; but Sir Langham Portland threw light
upon the subject which Marian had scarcely guessed at before. Do you
think she was grateful on that account to the handsome Guardsman?
Marian’s sweet face brightened all over with amused half-blushing smiles.
It was impossible to tell.
“But, Marian,” said Agnes, “I want to be particular about one thing. We
must not deceive any one. Nobody must suppose we are great ladies. If
anything should happen of any importance, we must be sure to tell who we
are.”
“That you are the author of Hope Hazlewood,” said Marian, somewhat
provokingly. “Oh! Mrs Edgerley will tell everybody that; and as for me, I
am only your sister—nobody will mind me.”
So they drove on under the green leaves, which grew less and less dusty
as they left London in the distance, through the broad white line of road,
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