 selfish than the
acrid, unsuccessful kind, whose secret history is summed up in the terrible
words, »Sold but not paid for.«
    Gwendolen wondered that she had not better remembered how very fine a man
her uncle was; but at the age of sixteen she was a less capable and more
indifferent judge. At present it was a matter of extreme interest to her that
she was to have the near countenance of a dignified male relative, and that the
family life would cease to be entirely, insipidly feminine. She did not intend
that her uncle should control her, but she saw at once that it would be
altogether agreeable to her that he should be proud of introducing her as his
niece. And there was every sign of his being likely to feel that pride. He
certainly looked at her with admiration as he said -
    »You have outgrown Anna, my dear,« putting his arm tenderly round his
daughter, whose shy face was a tiny copy of his own, and drawing her forward.
»She is not so old as you by a year, but her growing days are certainly over. I
hope you will be excellent companions.«
    He did give a comparing glance at his daughter, but if he saw her
inferiority, he might also see that Anna's timid appearance and miniature figure
must appeal to a different taste from that which was attracted by Gwendolen, and
that the girls could hardly be rivals. Gwendolen, at least, was aware of this,
and kissed her cousin with real cordiality as well as grace, saying, »A
companion is just what I want. I am so glad we are come to live here. And mamma
will be much happier now she is near you, aunt.«
    The aunt trusted indeed that it would be so, and felt it a blessing that a
suitable home had been vacant in their uncle's parish. Then, of course, notice
had to be taken of the four other girls whom Gwendolen had always felt to be
superfluous: all of a girlish average that made four units utterly unimportant,
and yet from her earliest days an obtrusive influential fact in her life. She
was conscious of having been much kinder to them than could have been expected.
And it was evident to her that her uncle and aunt also felt it a pity there were
so many girls: - what rational person could feel otherwise, except poor mamma,
who never would see how Alice set up her shoulders and lifted her eyebrows till
she had no forehead left, how Bertha and Fanny whispered and tittered together
about everything, or how Isabel was
