It was a copy of the first edition of the Lyrical Ballads, of which he had become possessed. Aldyth was very pleased to see it, but she felt rather shame-faced as she turned over the leaves.
"You were not at the lecture to-night," he said, a minute later. "There is nothing amiss, I trust?"
"I am quite well, if that is what you mean," she replied, with nervous quickness. "I am very sorry, Mr. Glynne; it is a great disappointment to me; I shall not be able to attend any more of the lectures."
"Indeed!" he said, surprised in look and tone.
"Yes," said Aldyth, colouring deeply. "It is not my fault. I cannot help myself in the matter. It is uncle—he thinks it is not good for girls to study poetry. He thinks we should devote ourselves entirely to cooking and housekeeping."
"What a barbarian!" he exclaimed, so seriously that Aldyth burst into a laugh, and all her discontent seemed to melt away.
"Excuse me," he added, the next moment. "I ought not to speak so of your uncle. But are you obliged to renounce the study of poetry because he thinks in that way?"
"Yes," said Aldyth, firmly; "at least, I feel that I must give up the lectures. It will seem strange to you, but there are reasons why I am peculiarly bound to defer to Uncle Stephen's wishes."
"Is it so? Well, I am very sorry," he said, with sincere regret in his tones. "Your papers were so good. Miss Hilda Bland took charge of the one I returned this evening. It is marked 'Excellent,' like the others."
Aldyth's face glowed with pleasure.