to come down hard upon your brother sometimes; it amuses me, so let her alone.”
Caroline, who, mounted on a chair, had been rummaging the book-case, returned with a book.
“Here’s Shakespeare,” she said, “and there’s Coriolanus. Now, read, and discover by the feelings the reading will give you at once how low and how high you are.”
“Come then, sit near me, and correct when I mispronounce.”
“Ainsi, soit-il!”
“And Shakespeare is our science, since we are going to study?”
“It appears so.”
“And you are not going to be French, and sceptical, and sneering? You are not going to think it a sign of wisdom to refuse to admire?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you do, Robert, I’ll take Shakespeare away; and I’ll shrivel up within myself, and put on my bonnet and go home.”
“Sit down; here I begin.”
“One minute, if you please, brother,” interrupted Mademoiselle, “when the gentleman of a family reads, the ladies should always sew. Caroline, dear child, take your embroidery; you may get three sprigs done to-night.”
Caroline looked dismayed. “I can’t see by lamp-
