The entrance of Miss Patterson, a prim, middle-aged lady, who came for a few hours every day to superintend Matilda’s education, put an end to the discussion. Captain Wareham paid the money without another word, took his hat and stick, and sallied forth to avoid the infliction of Miss Patterson, the music, &c. Captain Wareham was a half-pay officer, with a broken constitution, and a very limited income. He had taken up his abode in the county town, that his eldest daughter might have the advantage of going to the winter balls; his second, that of receiving some finishing lessons in singing from the organist of the cathedral; his third, that of having a day-governess; and his youngest boy that of attending an excellent school, as a day scholar. He was a dignified-looking man, very tall and thin, with a high pale forehead, light eyes and hair, and there was altogether something melancholy and gentlemanly in his appearance. His connections were good, his conduct irreproachable, and he maintained an uncomplaining reserve upon the subject of his pecuniary embarrassments, which gained him the respect and consideration of the surrounding squirearchy. Whether his difficulties on the score of money might not be the true cause of the captious temper which rendered his home any thing but a happy one, either to himself or to his family, is another question. In society he was courteous and polished, his daughters were gentle and dutiful, and although among the gossip of a country town an unauthenticated rumour now and then prevailed that Captain Wareham was a tyrant at home, he upon the whole bore the character of an exemplary man. Mrs. Wareham had died just as her eldest daughter had attained the age of womanhood, and upon her death the care of the younger children devolved upon Caroline. Caroline was by nature indolent and sweet-tempered. It was to her a most wearisome duty to inspect the bills, and to see that the lessons were prepared by the time the day governess arrived. She was pretty, and her very indolence gave her something fashionable in manner,—at least, it prevented any thing approaching a bustling fussiness, which is in itself essentially vulgar. She was much admired by the beaux of the neighbourhood, though there is a vast difference between admiring and proposing to a pretty pennyless girl. As she considered marriage the one and only means of escaping from a home and mode of life exceedingly distasteful to her, she did not discourage the admiration of those who paid her any attention. Several had appeared to be deeply smitten, but still the magic words upon which her future fate rested had never passed their lips, and she was gradually becoming hopeless and distrustful. Her second sister, Ellen, was now seventeen, and was to make her appearance at the next county ball.