“That comes of making one’s nest,” she sighed, “and thinking one’s self secure in it for life! Oh! it is worse and more changeable in this latter century than in any other! Does the world go round faster?” “Of course it does,” said Geraldine. “Think how many fashions, how many styles, how many ways of thinking, have passed away, even in our own time.” “And what have they left behind them?” “Something good, I trust. Coral cells, stones for the next generation of zoophytes to stand upon to reach up higher.” “Is it higher?” “In one sense, I hope. The same foundation, remember, and each cell forms a rock for the future—a white and beautiful cell, remember, as it grows unconsciously, beneath this creature.” Magdalen smiled, delighted with the illustration. “It forms into the rocks, the strong foundations of the earth,” she said. “When it has undergone its baptism beneath the sea,” added Geraldine. “But practically and unpoetically, perhaps—how the young folk mount upon all our little achievements in Church matters, and think them nearly as old-fashioned and despicable as we did pews and black gowns! Or how attempts like the schools that brought up Robina and Angela have shot out into High Schools, colleges, professions, and I know not what besides.” “Ah! we come to my old notions for my sisters. I thought they would have been governesses like myself, but they married; and now tell me, what do you think of this scheme of Miss Mohun and Agatha?” “You know Dolores is going to her father first. I never saw him, but Lady Merrifield and Jane tell me he is a very wise, highly-principled person, perfectly to be trusted; and they like all that they have heard of his young wife. I should think if Agatha is to become a scientific lecturer, she could not begin her career under better training.” “Career, exactly! People used not to talk of careers.” “Life and career! Tortoise and hare, eh? But the hare may and ought still to reach the goal, and have her cell built, even if she does have her _wander yahr_, like the young barnacles, before becoming attached! No! she need not become the barnacle goose. That is fabulous,” said Mrs. Grinstead, laughing off a little of her seriousness, and adding, “Tell me of the other girls. I think Vera did not come home last year.” “No; nor the year before. She has a good many pretty little talents, and is very obliging. Mrs. White seems to be very fond of her, and did not want to spare her when they went to Gastein for the summer. And this year, when there was so much infection about, I could not press it.” “Is it true that there is anything between her and Petros White?” “I know Miss Mohun—Jane—infers it, but I don’t like to build upon it.” “I should build on most inferences that Jane Mohun ventured to make known,” said Geraldine, smiling; “and Paulina’s fate is pretty well fixed, I suppose!”