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 complexion unflushed, unexcited, the very brownness of her hair and eyes invisible by this faint light, she was, compared with the heiress, as a graceful pencil-sketch compared with a vivid painting. Since Robert had seen her last, a great change had been wrought in her; whether he perceived it, might not be ascertained: he said nothing to that effect.

"How is Hortense?" asked Caroline, softly.

"Very well; but she complains of being unemployed: she misses you."

"Tell her that I miss her, and that I write and read a portion of French every day."

"She will ask if you sent your love: she is always particular on that point. You know she likes attention."

"My best love—my very best; and say to her, that whenever she has time to write me a little note, I shall be glad to hear from her."

"What if I forget? I am not the surest messenger of compliments."

"No, don't forget, Robert: it is no compliment—it is in good earnest."

"And must therefore be delivered punctually?"

"If you please."

"Hortense will be ready to shed tears. She is tender-hearted on the subject of her pupil; yet she reproaches you sometimes for obeying your uncle's injunctions too literally. Affection, like love, will be unjust now and then."

And Caroline made no answer to this observation;