The Evil Genius : a domestic story

ch Lomond, and divides the Highlands and the Lowlands of Scotland, travelers arrive at the venerable

declines to trouble itself with criticism. It looks up at the towers and the loopholes, the battlements and the rusty old guns, which still bear witness to the perils of past times when the place was a fortress - it enters the gloomy hall, walks through the stone-paved rooms, stares at the faded pictures, and wonders at the lofty chimney-pieces hopelessly out of reach. Sometimes it sits on chairs

ttern, worthy of a child's delicious sleep; and they would only have discovered that the room was three hundred years old when they had drawn aside the window curtains, and had revealed the adamantine solidity of the outer walls. Or, if they had been allowed to pursue their investigations a little further, and had found their way next into Mrs. Linley's sitting room, here again a transformation scene would have revealed more modern luxury, presented in the perfection which impli

f importance in the house - holding rank as Mrs. Linley's mother; and being

orman accepted the proposal of the ugliest and dullest man among the ranks of her admirers. Why she became the wife of Mr. Presty (known in commercial circles as a merchant enriched by the sale of vinegar) she was never able to explain. Why she lamented him, with tears of sincere sorrow, when he died after two years of married life, was a mystery which puzzled her nearest and dearest friends. And why when she indulged (a little too frequently) in recollections of her marri

e old lady asleep, and saw that the book on her mother's lap was sliding off. Before s

sorry! I was just to

daresay I should go to sleep ag

lly as dul

are of what the new school of novel writing is doing. T

aking seriou

mproper characters to cheat us out of our sympathies, no dramatic situations to frighten us; exquisite management of details

is in itself a motive of human sleep. No; I won't borrow your novel ju

y consulte

figures has been of the greatest use to me in later life. Thanks to his instructions, I am the only person in the house who can grapple with the intricacies of our railway system. Your poor father, Mr. Norman, could never understand time-tables a

n was addressed answered: "A tel

demonstrative person, the feeling of alarm which had seized on her only expressed itself

y opened t

is office) was not quite just to the memory of my first husband. He used to blame Mr. Norman for letting me see his telegrams. But Mr. Presty's nature had all the poetry in which Mr. Norman's n

mma! is He

Nobody is hurt; there

oes he tele

now read it through attentively to the end. Her face ass

you trusted your husband to find a governess for my grandchild. I said

"Why shouldn't I trust him?" she asked. "He was going to

ter's conduct by waving her hand. "Read your telegram,

Linle

person whom you may be surprised to see. She is very young, and very inexperienced; quite unlike the ordinary run of

down the messag

been eight years married, is he really afraid that I sh

daughter and read extracts from it with

nd very inexperienced. And he sympathizes with her