"I thought, aunt, that he had dictated the Paradise Lost and Regained after he was blind."
"I refer to the eyes of his soul," said the old lady sternly.
"I want a story-book."
"There is the Dairyman's Daughter."
"I have read it, and hate it."
"I fear, Leticia, that you are in the gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity."
Unhappily the sisters very rarely met one another. It was but occasionally that Lady Lacy and Betty came to town, and when they did, Miss Mountjoy put as many difficulties as she could in the way of their associating together.
On one such visit to London, Lady Lacy called and asked if she might take Letice with herself to the theatre. Miss Mountjoy shivered with horror, reared herself, and expressed her opinion of stage-plays and those who went to see them in strong and uncomplimentary terms. As she had the custody of Letice, she would by no persuasion be induced to allow her to imperil her soul by going to such a wicked place. Lady Lacy was fain to withdraw in some dismay and much regret.
Poor Letice, who had heard this offer made, had flashed into sudden brightness and a tremor of joy; when it was refused, she burst into a flood of tears and an ecstasy of rage. She ran up to her room, and took and tore to pieces a volume of Clayton's Sermons, scattered the leaves over the floor, and stamped upon them.
"Letice," said Miss Mountjoy, when she saw the devastation, "you are a child of wrath."