I say again, madame was a very great and a very capable woman. That school offered for her powers too limited a sphere: she ought to have swayed a nation; she should have been the leader of a turbulent legislative assembly. Nobody could have browbeaten her, none irritated her nerves, exhausted her patience, or overreached her astuteness. In her own single person, she could have comprised the duties of a first minister and a superintendent of police. Wise, firm, faithless, secret, crafty, passionless; watchful and inscrutable; acute and insensate--withal perfectly decorous--what more could be desired? A YORKSHIRE LANDSCAPE From 'Shirley' "Miss Keeldar, just stand still now, and look down at Nunneley dale and wood." They both halted on the green brow of the Common. They looked down on the deep valley robed in May raiment; on varied meads, some pearled with daisies and some golden with kingcups: to-day all this young verdure smiled clear in sunlight; transparent emerald and amber gleams played over it. On Nunnwood--the sole remnant of antique British forest in a region whose lowlands were once all sylvan chase, as its highlands were breast-deep heather--slept the shadow of a cloud; the distant hills were dappled, the horizon was shaded and tinted like mother-of-pearl; silvery blues, soft purples, evanescent greens and rose-shades, all melting into fleeces of white cloud, pure as azury snow, allured the eye with a remote glimpse of heaven's foundations. The air blowing on the brow was fresh and sweet and bracing. "Our England is a bonnie island," said Shirley, "and Yorkshire is one of her bonniest nooks." "You are a Yorkshire girl too?" "I am--Yorkshire in blood and birth. Five generations of my race sleep under the aisles of Briarfield Church: I drew my first breath in the old black hall behind us." Hereupon Caroline presented her hand, which was accordingly taken and shaken. "We are compatriots," said she. "Yes," agreed Shirley, with a grave nod. "And that," asked Miss Keeldar, pointing to the forest--"that is Nunnwood?" "It is." "Were you ever there?" "Many a time." "In the heart of it?" "Yes." "What is it like?" "It is like an encampment of forest sons of Anak. The trees are huge and old. When you stand at their roots, the summits seem in another region: the trunks remain still and firm as pillars, while the boughs sway to every breeze. In the deepest calm their leaves are never quite hushed, and in a high wind a flood rushes--a sea thunders above you." "Was it not one of Robin Hood's haunts?" "Yes, and there are mementos of him still existing. To penetrate into Nunnwood, Miss Keeldar, is to go far back into the dim days of old. Can you see a break in the forest, about the centre?" "Yes, distinctly."