‘With none. Harry had left home about ten days before, quite well, and looking so handsome. You know what a fine-looking person William is. Well, Harry was very like him, only not so tall and strong, with the same clear hazel eyes, and more pink in his cheeks—fairer altogether. Then Harry wrote, saying that he had caught one of his bad colds. We did not think much of it, for he was always having coughs. We heard no more for a week, and then one morning Eleanor was sent for out of the schoolroom, and there was Robert come to tell us. Oh! it was such a thunderbolt. This was what did the mischief. You know papa and mamma being from home so long, the elder boys had no settled place for the holidays; sometimes they stayed with one friend, sometimes with another, and so no one saw enough of them to find out how delicate poor Harry really was. I think papa had been anxious the only winter they were at home together, and Harry had been talked to and advised to take care; but in the summer and autumn he was well, and did not think about it. He went to Oxford by the coach—it was a bitterly cold frosty day—there was a poor woman outside, shivering and looking very ill, and Harry changed places with her. He was horribly chilled, but thinking he had only a common cold, he took no care. Robert, coming to Oxford about a week after, found him very ill, and wrote to papa and William, but William scarcely came in time. Harry just knew him, and that was all. He could not speak, and died that night. Then William stayed at Oxford to receive papa, and Robert came to tell us.’ ‘It must have been a terrible shock.’ ‘Such a loss—he was so very good and clever. Every one looked up to him—William almost as much as the younger ones. He never was in any scrape, had all sorts of prizes at Eton, besides getting his scholarship before he was seventeen.’ Whenever Lily could get Miss Weston alone, it was her way to talk in this manner. She loved the sound of her own voice so well, that she was never better satisfied than when engrossing the whole conversation. Having nothing to talk of but her books, her poor people, and her family, she gave her friend the full benefit of all she could say on each subject, while Alethea had kindness enough to listen with real interest to her long rambling discourses, well pleased to see her happy. The next time they met, Lilias told her all she knew or imagined respecting Eleanor, and of her own debate with Claude, and ended, ‘Now, Miss Weston, tell me your opinion, which would you choose for a sister, Eleanor or Emily?’ ‘I have some experience of Miss Mohun’s delightful manners, and none of Mrs. Hawkesworth’s, so I am no fair judge,’ said Alethea. ‘I really have done justice to Eleanor’s sterling goodness,’ said Lily. ‘Now what should you think?’ ‘I can hardly imagine greater proofs of affection than Mrs. Hawkesworth has given you,’ said Miss Weston, smiling.