“He never cared for gardening himself. Indeed, I think it is the wild confusion of foliage here that he likes. He said to me one day, 'In _my_ old garden a man loses himself in thought. In this trimly kept place one is ever occupied by the melon-frame or the forcing-house.'” “That's the dreadful thing about old people; they are ever for making the whims and crotchets of age the rules of life to others. I wonder you bear this so well.” “I didn't know that I bore anything,” said she, with a smile. “That's true slave doctrine, I must say; and when one does not feel bondage, there's no more to be said.” “I suspect I have a great deal more freedom than most girls; my time is almost all my own, to dispose of as I will. I read, or play, or walk, or work, as I feel inclined. If I wish to occupy myself with household matters, I am the mistress here.” “In other words, you are free to do everything that is not worth doing,--you lead the life of a nun in a convent, only that you have not even a sister nun to talk to.” “And which are the things you say are worth doing?” “Would you not care to go out into the world, to mix in society, to go to balls, theatres, fêtes, and such-like? Would you not like to ride? I don't mean it for flattery, but would you not, like the admiration you would be sure to meet,--the sort of homage people render to beauty, the ouly tribute the world ever paid freely,--are all these not worth something?” “I am sure they are: they are worth a great deal to those who can enjoy them with a happy heart; but remember, Colonel Se well, I have a father living in exile, simply to earn a livelihood, and I have a brother toiling for his bread in a strange land: is it likely I could forget these, or is it likely that I could carry such cares about with me, and enjoy the pleasures you tell of?”