There were still other scenes to which these “gay young Friends,” as they were called, wished to introduce Millicent, and amongst these were the theatre, the opera, and morning and evening concerts. Against these she made a stout stand. Her parents would greatly disapprove of it, and she would not for the world grieve them. Besides, plays and operas were vain, and often wicked things: they could do her no good, and she did not wish to see them. “But,” said they, “you, Millicent, are a poetess and a lover of knowledge. You ought to see life if you are to understand or describe it.” “But I don’t want to describe it,” said Millicent. “Still,” added they, “you should know it, though it were only to know it; you need not frequent such scenes again if you do not like them. Don’t you know what the Grand Duke of Weimar, the friend of Goethe, the great German poet, says? But you don’t read German. He often said to Goethe that he would wish to experience everything. He would like to go into the lower regions even for a few days, to see how they manage to make their life there tolerable under such momentous disadvantages. He remarked that we are told a great deal about the life above, and which he thought not very attractive, if it consisted almost entirely of psalm-singing and waving of palms; but he fancied that such a very miserable existence as that of the lower world must have called forth the utmost ingenuity of the human or superhuman mind, and that there must be some very curious inventions down there.” “My curiosity,” said Millicent, “will never induce me to wish to visit those regions. I am quite willing that the Grand Duke should have the benefit of such a journey all to himself.” But what avails a strong will, and what are good intentions, when the heart has received a treacherous bias. Millicent was every day more drawn by affection towards Edward Barrington, more deeply attached to his kind sisters, who, with all their gaiety, were full of the truest feminine feelings, and active in the best duties and philanthropies of life. In less than three weeks, which she still spent with them, she had been at the theatre, the opera, at different concerts, and at a _fête champêtre_ given in the suburban grounds of a nobleman, where there was a splendid military band, and a concourse of company, including even persons of royal blood; and her own oriental style of beauty, which some ladies said looked more like Arabia or Circassia than England, drew much attention.