same time a tinge of ineffectual malice and envy appeared through her ill-feigned humility. She could give no opinion of any book--oh, she would not give any judgment for the whole world! She did not think herself qualified to speak, even if she had read the book, which indeed she had not, for, really, she never read--she was not a _reading lady_. As Miss Hunter had no portion of Mrs. Beaumont’s quick penetration, she did not see the unfavourable impression these words made: certain that she was following exactly her secret instructions, she was confident of being in the right line; so on she went, whilst Mrs. Beaumont sighed in vain; and Miss Walsingham, who now saw and understood her whole play, almost smiled at the comic of the scene. “O dear, Mrs. Beaumont,” continued Miss Hunter, “how can you ever appeal to me about books and those sorts of things, when you know I know nothing about the matter? For mercy’s sake, never do so any more, for you know I’ve no taste for those sorts of things. And besides, I own, even if I could, I should so hate to be thought a blue-stocking--I would not have the least bit of blue in my stockings for the whole world--I’d rather have any other colour, black, white, red, green, yellow, any other colour. So I own I’m not sorry I’m not what they call a genius; for though genius to be sure’s a very fascinating sort of thing in gentlemen, yet in women it is not so becoming, I think, especially in ladies: it does very well on the stage, and for artists, and so on; but really now, in company, I think it’s an awkward thing, and would make one look so odd! Now, Mr. Beaumont, I must tell you an anecdote--” “Stop, my dear Miss Hunter, your ear-ring is coming out. Stay! let me clasp it, love!” exclaimed Mrs. Beaumont, determined to stop her in the career of nonsense, by giving her sensations, since she could not give her ideas, a new turn. “Oh, ma’am! ma’am! Oh! my ear! you are killing me, dearest Mrs. Beaumont! pinching me to death, ma’am!” “Did I pinch, my dear? It was the hinge of the ear-ring, I suppose.” “I don’t know what it was; but here’s blood, I declare!” “My love, I beg you a thousand pardons. How could I be so awkward! But why could not you for one moment hold your little head still?” Miss Walsingham applied a patch to the wound. “Such a pretty ear as it is,” continued Mrs. Beaumont; “I am sure it was a pity to hurt it.” “You really did hurt it,” said Mr. Beaumont, in a tone of compassion. “Oh, horridly!” cried Miss Hunter--“and I, that always faint at the sight of blood!” Afraid that the young lady would again spoil her part in the acting, and lose all the advantages which might result from the combined effect of the pretty ear and of compassion, Mrs. Beaumont endeavoured to take off her attention from the wound, by attacking her ear-rings. “My love,” said she, “don’t wear these ear-rings any more, for I assure you there is no possibility of shutting or opening them, without hurting you.”