So she kept silence, and ceased to speak to either of her parents except when they addressed questions to her.

Her father would neither complain of this nor confess the regret he felt for his hasty destruction of her manuscripts; but, whilst he proclaimed that he would burn every scrap of her nonsense that might come into his hands, he took care to be blind when he surprised her with suspicious bundles of foolscap, and snubbed his wife for hinting that Elinor was secretly disobeying him.

Meanwhile her silent resentment never softened, and the life of the family was embittered by their consciousness of it.

It never occurred to Mrs.McQuinch, an excellent mother to her two eldest daughters, that she was no more fit to have charge of the youngest than a turtle is to rear a young eagle.

The discomfort of their relations never shook her faith in their "naturalness." Like her husband and the vicar, she believed that when God sent children he made their parents fit to rule them.