Lately, turning over these faded leaves of rhyme and prose, I lighted, under this day's date, upon the following sage reflection, with my name appended:-- 'Is there not in the female heart an ineradicable jealousy, which, if it sways the passions of the young, rules also the _advice_ of the _aged_?
Do they not grudge to youth the sentiments (though Heaven knows how _shadowed_ with sorrow) which they can _no longer inspire_, perhaps even _experience_; and does not youth, in turn, sigh over the envy which has _power to blight_?
MAUD AYLMER RUTHYN.' 'He has not been making love to me,' I said rather tartly, 'and he does not seem to me at all impertinent, and I really don't care the least whether he goes or stays.' Cousin Monica looked in my face with her old waggish smile, and laughed.
'You'll understand those London dandies better some day, dear Maud; they are very well, but they like money--not to keep, of course--but still they like it and know its value.' At breakfast my father told Captain Oakley where he might have shooting, or if he preferred going to Dilsford, only half an hour's ride, he might have his choice of hunters, and find the dogs there that morning.
The Captain smiled archly at me, and looked at his aunt.

There was a suspense.

I hope I did not show how much I was interested--but it would not do.

Cousin Monica was inexorable.
'Hunting, hawking, fishing, fiddle-de-dee! You know, Charlie, my dear, it is quite out of the question.

He is going to Snodhurst this afternoon, and without quite a rudeness, in which I should be involved too, he really can't--you know you can't, Charles! and--and he _must_ go and keep his engagement.' So papa acquiesced with a polite regret, and hoped another time.
'Oh, leave all that to me.