Muriel: or, Social Fetters. A novel

Front matter

MURIEL: OB, SOCIAL FETTERS. % Mtl BY MES. EDWIN JAMES, AUTHOR OF "WANDERINGS OF A BEAUTY." Guil. Prison, my lord ? Eos. Then is the world one. Ham. A goodly one in wliich there are many confines, wards, and dungeons. Rob. We think not so, my lurd. Ham. Why then 'tis none to yon ; for there is nothing either good or had but thinking makes it so : to me it is a prison. SlJAKESPEABE. LONDON : CHARLES J. SKEET, 10, KING WILLIAM STREET, CRAUINO CBOSS. 1867. [The right of translation is reserved7\ CONTENTS.

Part I. Chap

PAGE I. THE VILLA AT TWICKENHAM . . . . 1 II. GBANDPAPA 10 III. MUEIEL 19 IV. LISLE COUET 23 V. THE BAEONESS 31 VI. THE HOUSEKEEPEE'S BOOM ... 37 VII. SPBING THOUGHTS 42 VIII. DE. AND MES. PETEESHAM ... 53 IX. BAEONESS DE LISLE 's CONCEET . . .63 X. STILL IN PABK LANE .... 73 XI. THE COUNT . . .... 80 XII. THE MOTHEE AND SON .... 92 XIII. MEETING 100 XIV. PASTING . . .... 110 XV. A PETITION 119 XVI. A NEW CHABACTEE 129 XVII. THE HEIEESS 138 XVIII. SHADOWS 147 XIX. A LETTEE 155 XX. THE BEGINNING OF TBOUBLES . . . 163 XXI. SCANDAL CONTENTS.

Part II. Chap

PAGE XXII. ON THE BANKS OF THE AENO . 178 XXIII. CAFE DONEY 186 XXIV. A HAPPY MENAGE 193 XXV. LADY guinevee's PEOJECT. . . . 204 XXVI. BEHIND THE SCENES .... 213 XXVII. THE DEBUTANTE ...... 223 XXVIII. LADY GUINEVEE AT HOME . . . 230 XXIX. WILL SHE ACCEPT ? 240 XXX. THE LETTEE ANSWEEED .... 250 XXXI. A DISCOVEBY 261 XXXII. NO GEEATEE SOEEOW .... 273 XXX1II. THE INTEEVIEW 282 XXXIV. DEAD TO ME 294 XXXV. WEDDED 302

Part IV. XLVIII

THE LITTLE CHUECH AMID THE MOUNTAINS 421 XLIX. COUNTEEPAET8 .... 430 L. CONCLUSION MUEIEL: OE, SOCIAL FETTERS.

Part I. Chapter

I. THE VILLA AT TWICKENHAM. The banks of England's noblest river, the lordly Thames, are, as all the world knows, studded here and there with charming villas, whose flowery and smoothly shaven lawns slope downward to the verge of the fresh and health-giving stream, into whose sparkling waters the drooping willow and feathery acacia love to dip their pendant branches. Sweet sequestered homes ! to us ye have ever possessed a fascination peculiarly your own : oft as floating down the river on some balmy summer's eve, has the passing glimpse of some lovely saunterer, or may be the shimmer of a robe of snowy muslin, awakened in our heart a world of mystery and romance; or may-be, the silvery sound of a harp, or the echo of some fresh young voice, has set us castle building like any knight-errant of old.

An easy distance from the city, yet entirely secluded, the man of business, the scholar, the author may in these sylvan bowers each find a retreat suited alike to their several tastes. And if the woman of sentiment and refinement loves to linger beneath the shade of the stately beeches, no less may the fair and frivolous votary of pleasure or fashion bid her aristo cratic guests to a dejeuner or a the dansante on the velvet sward, when, according to the Morning Pos " by the kind permission of Col. the Hon. Percy Noble, the band of the * * * Regt. of Hussars performed a variety of choice morceaux to the evident satisfaction of the distinguished guests there assembled." And now, friendly reader, by your permission, we will invite you to accompany us to one of the most picturesque and fairy-like of these arcadias, in order to be introduced to its inmates.

Ah ! there they are, the younger portion of the family at least, upon the lawn. A girl of that age which can scarcely be termed childhood, yet which, without actually trespassing on the bounds of womanhood, still ap proaches so near as to appropriate much of its charm and fascination, and a boy, possibly her senior by a couple of years. She is seated on a garden chair, her lap full of flowers, tastefully arranging them into a garland which you immediately imagine an appropriate crown of fragrance for the nut-brown curls, which are now falling in slight disorder around the sweet rosy face ; the young girl is bending assi duously over her work, the boy has flung himself at full length on the grass at her feet. We must not forget the third party present, for he too is loving, good, and true, as the youthful pair, into either of whose fair and happy face he turns an upward, wist ful gaze.

Nor do they fail to pat the noble head of their four-footed friend, and say, frequently, "Poor Nel," " Good old fellow," and such like dog talk. Eor they are of that blissful age when life is young •and love is tender and true — and books, and nature, and birds, and all things fresh and fair, are to them innocent and soul-felt sources of delicious feeling. *- Ah I" exclaimed the boy, " how glad I am that we have at last left, hot, dusty London ; it was a capital move, that of the doctor ! what say you, fair Muriel V 1-2 •' Of course — yes," replied the girl ; " you know how* I love this place and its flowers, not to mention old Nel— but still " " Still what ? oh queen of the discontented !" en quired her companion, turning upon the fair young face, which looked down upon him, the full light of two most expressive eyes.

"Now, pray, my dear boy, don't look so uncom monly surprised because I confess to a weakness for the opera, and adore the orchestra of the Philhar monic ; indeed, I fear, green trees, and ruralizing, as you would say, ' don't suit my book — at any rate be fore the 12th of August, when the opera and Par liament simultaneously close,' because, forsooth, you male tyrants of the creation must e'en start off to Scotland to shoot the poor, pretty grouse " " Which, however, Miss Muriel Brandon — though so compassionate — by no means disdains^ when roasted, with bread-sauce accompaniment!" " Oh, fie ! how can you talk of eating to a young lady ? But I must pardon you, in consequence of your youth. A few years older, and you will know better." " As if I was not, even now, two years your se nior, fair lady !"

"True, but you look so young, I always fancy you are but fifteen." " Well, well," said he, impatiently, and with a vexed look ; " youth is a good fault, it cures itself daily : and, may-be, when I am a man, and you a woman, Muriel, we may perhaps both regret these days, and the age you now so much despise." He spoke sadly — the clear eyes darkening as with a gloom. Woman like, the young girl hastened to dispel the momentary cloud. Laying her hand lightly on the arm of her friend, she said kindly, — "Dear Gerald, why take my nonsense so seri ously ? You know I would not vex you for the world, or (smiling archly,) offend your manly dig nity." The boy's massive brow cleared as by magic, and with a charming, frank smile, he said — "'When ruby lips thus plead, judgment must ever be given in their favour !' but, hark ! the half-hour bell summons the fairest of the fair to the duty of the toilet ; and as she usually takes three hours' adorning — " " Provoking boy !

I beg pardon — young man .'" cried Muriel, rising, and running towards the house, Nelson bounding after her, fully bent on a game of romps* but much disgusted at discovering his mis take, returning crest-fallen, or rather tail-fallen to his place on the grass beside his master. Just then a carriage is seen rounding -the gravel walk : it stops at the front door, when the master of the house alights, just in time to make a hasty toilet previous to partaking of the turtle soup and fresh salmon, in which his soul delights. To Dr. Petersham, the most fashionable physician of worldly and aristocratic London, we have now the supreme honour of introducing our readers — an honour we trust they will duly appreciate. This great man, we beg to premise, was never known, even in a passing manner, to allude to any female patient who could not boast a title to her name, though he occasionally condescended to an M.P., or the fashionable poet or painter of the day.

Indeed, it was currently reported that the doctor had refused fabulous fees rather than allow his carriage to be seen north of Oxford Street, or east of Temple Bar, though we have been privately given to understand that the matter was frequently compromised by the worthy man's becoming occasionally the "fare" in a cab. It had been murmured, too, in half the sa lons of Belgravia, that Dr. Petersham was the confidant, almost the father-confessor, of half the Du chesses, Marchionesses, and Countesses, dwelling within the charmed circle of Belgravia, Park Lane, or Grosvenor Square— nay, a whisper had gone forth that from Majesty itself he had received a very exceptional permission — yes, he had occasionally had the distinguished honour of embracing an infant Royal Highness, after having felt its royal pulse, and looked at its royal tongue.

This very fashionable, and very imposing, London physician, was, of course, married — are not all respectable doctors in respectable England benedicts? His wife, one of a large family of sisters, had a little money of her own. Devotedly attached to her husband, and believing religiously that, king-like, he " could do no wrong," Mrs. Petersham felt deeply the honour the great man had done her in permitting her to bear his name — an honour which the doctor took care should be impressed on his wife's memory — frequently assert ing in presence of the sisterhood and others, that, having very long debated which of the family he should distinguish by the offer of his hand, his final choice had fallen on the elder sister, not for her superior charms, but as being of the most suitable age for a man approaching middle life.

All this was heard in meekness by the gentle, loving soul, but her poor woman's heart must frequently have throbbed from wounded pride, and ached with silent, wifely sorrow, as the cold, selfish, worldly man poured out on her, who more than all merited the epithet of patient, the spleen he durst not vent on the fanciful, fine ladies whose imaginary ailments and guineas he considered it his duty to remove. Muriel, an unwilling listener, often felt the indignant blood mount to her cheek, but she, too, was silent, for she feared the stern, basilisk glance of her uncle, but though she sincerely pitied, she did not love her aunt — their natures were too antagonistic. Mrs. Petersham, though warm-hearted, was cold and un demonstrative in manner — prudish to a fault, she even beheld harm where none was ever dreamed of, it really was quite a pity that the doctor's choice had not fallen upon one of her sisters — for old maidhood was decidedly this lady's vocation, excepting indeed in her intense dislike to cats (and these animals, we must aver, she held in holy horror), Aunt Griselda was in all respects fitted for a life of single blessed ness.

Many a look of unmitigated disgust has poor Muriel discovered on this usually placid lady's features, when, with a heart overflowing with love for every innocent member of God's dumb creation, she was more than once detected by Aunt Griselda in the housekeeper's apartment, caressing and fondling — nay, we are constrained to avow, actually kissing poor puss. Report had declared the doctor's niece heiress to a considerable fortune, but as report is notoriously at fault as regards ladies' fortunes, and, according to their own account, as to their ages also, the truth, where such delicate subjects are concerned, is notoriously hard to come at : we will be content, therefore, with assuring our readers, that our heroine had been left by her parents in an independent position as regards worldly goods, subject during her minority to the control of her uncle and guardian, Dr. Petersham.

Chapter II. Gkandpapa

The world, therefore, whose judgment is ever super ficial, would doubtless have pronounced Miss Muriel Brandon a most fortunate young lady. Gifted by na ture in no churlish way with those prime elements of happiness, health, talent, good looks, might not the future be said to be in her own power ? Might it not safely be predicted, that in the lottery of life our he roine was in a fair way of winning a high prize, more especially as dame Portnne had herself weighted the scale with a golden balance ? And the world, in fact, did so judge, with much show of reason, too ; forgetting that the race is not always to the strong, nor the battle to the swift ; unmindful of what a tangled web is woven the destiny of each daughter of Eve, so that a lifetime is too short for the unravelling thereof. Happy, thrice happy, they who look to a higher sphere in the sweet hope that there the crooked may be made straight, the GRANDPAPA. 11 inexplicable explained, the mystery be no longer mysterious.

Muriel was an orphan ; until the age of twelve she had been brought up by her maternal grand father, and well had the old man supplied the place of a tender parent towards his youthful charge. A pretty villa in the environs of Havre was the scene of her early childhood ; aud it was here that the young girl received the first elements of her education, and learned to speak the French language with the accent of a native. Perceiving at an early age in the little Muriel undoubted marks of a superior intelligence, the good old man devoted himself indefatigably to the in struction of his grandchild ; so that at seven years of age, the young pupil was conversant with many of the leading facts of ancient and modern history, and with most of the fanciful myths which picture the poetic pages of tbe classics ; a year later she devoured eagerly Pope's unique translation of the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer — now glowing with mar tial ardour, as in words of flame the poet recounts the daring deeds of the god-like Hector, great Ajax, or the fierce Achilles;— now weeping with the tender wife Andromache the dreaded fate of her lord ; GRANDPAPA. peopling the w*oods, the springs, the ocean, with nymphs and naiads ; beholding on each summer cloud the dove-drawn chariot of the " laughter loving queen," or the graceful, dignified form of the maid with the blue eyes and terrible " ægis ;" for the old man had unveiled to the child the world osthe ideal, and the child entered in and dwelt there.

He taught her a little Italian, too — for he was of Tuscan origin — and the rudiments of Latin, which latter she found rather dry. She learned long poems by heart, and showed remarkable facility in so doing, except when called upon to commit to memory the drawling couplets of the drowsy Cowper, — whom Byron very justly repudiates as a brother in the art. But lines from Pope, and Milton, and Walter Scott, were repeated in the evening after coffee, to the sur passing delight of both master and pupil. Some times the good grandfather would say, " Ah ! my child, when you are twenty, and the old man is dead and gone, you will forget me" — and the child would sigh and feel sad, as the death-shadow cast a gloom over her soul ; and throwing her arms round his neck, she would assure him, amid tears and kisses, that she never, never could forget her kind and indulgent grandpapa.

GRANDPAPA. A bitter trial was it to poor Muriel when, by desire of her uncle Petersham, she quitted the happy home of her childhood, in order to finish her education in a London boarding school : and the old man sorely missed his young pupil and playmate (for she was both), and he pined and grieved, and in the touching words of Scripture, " forgot to eat his bread ;" and before the summer vacation came round, and on the very morning uncle Petersham's letter came with the intensely longed-for permission for his pet to spend her six weeks' holidays at home, the good, fond grandpapa passed away to a land where, for him, there could be " no more tears." And Muriel mourned for her more than parent, — deeply, truly. She never forgot him, and in her evening orisons, a prayer for his happiness and wel fare would, protestant though she was, struggle from her heart to her lips.

But, in youth, grief is short-lived ; surrounded by merry companions, and passionately devoted to study, the smile once more wreathed the ruby lip, and the dimpled cheek again glowed with the rose of health. With all the depth and intensity of her nature, Muriel possessed a fund of fun and frolic, which of itself made her the life and leading spirit of the GRANDPAPA. school, and too frequently led her into scrapes. One of the most serious of these was in consequence of her having instigated the young ladies to act a play, and having, unknown to the governess, already com menced rehearsals ; but the crowning misdemeanour of all consisted in having chosen for her debut the character of Norval in Home's tragedy of ** Douglas," all and each of the dramatis personæ, with two ex ceptions, being of the sterner sex ; and still worse, the costumes, horrible to relate, would necessitate a highly scandalous display of rather more than ankles, inasmuch as the scene of the tragedy was laid in the Highlands, where kilts and sandals are the order of the day, — very pretty, doubtless, for boys, but for young ladies scarcely decorous.

Our heroine had perhaps not considered all this, and her thoughtlessness was most severely reprimanded by the schoolmistress ; and further penance was added unto her, in the shape of two hundred lines of "Young's Night Thoughts," which she was sen tenced to get by rote (she would greatly have preferred Homer) ; and, to complete her mortification, Muriel was bid to write a theme on the profanity of theatricals in general, and desired to enlarge especially on the dreadful temptations into which such GRANDPAPA. profane amusements were likely to lead young ladies of fourteen. The tears streamed down the cheeks of the unhappy girl, as her thoughts reverted to her dear grandpapa, and his poetic teachings; once again, in fancy, they sauntered together in those green meadows, where grew the cowslip and bright-eyed daisy, and the daffodil waved her golden locks in the summer's breeze ; once again, she seemed to listen to the old man's musical voice, as he recounted how that Phaeton would insist on trying to drive the fiery steeds of the sun, and how thus doing he came to grief; and how the Titans made war with Jove ; what more she might have dreamed w*e know not, for, awakening with a start, she felt a hard bony hand laid on her shoulder, and heard the harsh voice of Miss Prudence, the gover ness, suiting the word to the action, exclaim, "Well, I do declare, Miss ! you have not written one word of your theme.

Retire to your room, Miss Brandon, I beg; and pray do not leave it till your task is performed ;" and Muriel obeyed, and thus awoke to reality ! Eighteen months later she left school, much to her regret, for she had learned to love her severe but GRANDPAPA. kind-hearted governess, and had formed tender and affectionate friendships with many of her schoolmates; still more, perhaps, did Muriel regret the lessons of music and singing she had taken with eminent professors ; and besides, she had little taste for rusticating in a country village, with an aunt, the wife of a curate,with large family and small means. Yet, with this aunt it was settled our heroine should reside till the age of eighteen, when she would be of age, Dr. Petersham, thinking the two hundred pounds allowed during minority for his niece's maintenance would be of greater service to his poorer sister than to his prosperous self, and not caring, perhaps, to undertake so responsible a charge as that of a young heiress, with a fair share of beauty, and the usual feminine amount of self-will.

It was therefore settled nolens volens that the young lady should reside during the next two years under the roof of her aunt, with an occasional visit to Uncle Petersham in May Pair at his pleasure. With the curate and his wife this story has but little in common ; suffice it then to say, they were good natured, homely, un-congenial people, blessed with a large family of various ages, from six months up wards. GRANDPAPA. 17 Muriel had a pretty cheerful room allotted to her, through the latticed casement of which, embowered in jessamine, the lilacs and la burnums straggled in, filling the chamber with perfume, gazing somewhat indiscreetly on the neat French bed, whose snowy curtains fell like a cloud around the graceful form reposing there in innocence and virginal purity. In this dainty bower might be seen bookshelves filled with classic authors, mostly poets, of every clime, a small w-riting-table, with its elegant inkstand, a low easy chair, workbox, a goldfinch in its pretty cage, and a guitaradornedwith a coquettish blue ribbon and tasteful bow ; all of which imparted a festive air to the little sanctum, where its inmate might at least enjoy privacy and repose.

Here, thrown entirely on her own resources, did Muriel resolve to continue her own education ; and, thus resolving, studied history, philosophy, science, languages, and — heaven help us ! — I fear me even mathematics : in fact, our little heroine was decidedly in danger of becoming very blue in the stockings, for — with shame we confess it — she ac tually began greek. But music saved her, for it was with her a passion. Already a good pianist, GRANDPAPA. and possessing a lovely voice, which she managed with great taste and 6ome science, many hours solemnly vowed to Euclid and the greek grammar were stolen by Apollo and the Muses ; and Muriel's pretty little foot looked prettier still in the glass slipper of Cinderella than in the cerulian stockings of the strong-minded of the sex ; and the expressive and well-chiselled lips were a thousand times more lovely, when inspired by Rossini, they gave out the brilliant tones of his " Nacqui all' affanno" than when repeating the greek verbs, or mur muring the solution of some difficult mathematical problem.

Chapter III. Muriel

We do not think the most flippant and empty of Oxford or Cambridge undergraduates would have dared to apply to Muriel Brandon the epithet of a "deuced pretty girl," or a "d ish fine one." They would have understood that the little pink and white milliner, or the pastry cook's black browed daughter, might feel flattered in being thus spoken of; but not fair Muriel — yet the pallid hero of the successful prize poem might, had he seen her, have added a line on " the starlight of woman's eyes ;" or the prize essayist might have resolved to take as his next subject, "The lightning of an angel smile ;" and those eyes, about whose true colour no two persons ever agreed, and that smile, might have haunted him for months ; and yet we do not in tend to claim for our young heroine the palm of perfect beauty.

Muriel was indeed lovely rather 2-2 MURIEL. than beautiful, and more attractive even than lovely. The Italians would have termed her eminently " simpatica." In childhood she won all hearts by the early womanliness of her character; later her child-like freshness and simplicity lent to the man ners of the woman an almost irresistible charm. She literally flashed upon you, as a gleam of sunshine in early spring, which thrills the blood, and is felt in the very depths of our being ; a brilliance as little resembling the meretricious sparkle of polite society as the ever-varying rose on her cheek was unlike the factitious bloom which fain would mask features haggard from midnight dissipation, miscalled pleasure. To the casual observer Muriel would be but the timid and retiring maiden, blushing when addressed, and seemingly all intent on her embroidery frame or painting ; but one who might closely watch the eloquent countenance, would readily surprise the unbidden tear, or the passing flush of emotion, which the recital of some " golden deed," the ex pression of a lofty sentiment, or a passage from some favourite author, would ever call forth.

To such would the electric flash of feeling reveal for a moment a wealth of intellect, a nobleness of nature, a tenderness of heart, as rare, as perilous to MURIEL. woman — perilous, alas ! to herself alone. Like that flower of surpassing loveliness, the magnolia of the Southern States of America, which changes colour if so much as a breath stirs its petals, or should the tiny and delicate humming bird so much as brush it in passing with its wing, such was this young girl ; so sensitive to beauty and harmony, so painfully susceptible to all that is discordant, which jarred upon her finely strung nerves " like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh ;" more than all, most of all, did music speak to the soul and senses of Muriel ; it was to her a presence real and tangible, her youthful frame thrilled and vibrated to the pas sionate wailings of Weber, her heart melted to the tender strains of Mozart, or swelled with religious awe as the sublime chords of Handel echoed through the vaulted aisles of some cathedral, and tears of intense bliss would well from the young eyes yet undimmed by sorrow, and the childish bosom would heave and throb with an emotion delicious as incomprehensible to natures less harmoniously and less richly endowed.

It may readily be conceived, that with so pas sionate an appreciation of the beautiful in art and nature, would be united a most fastidious horror of MURIEL. the vulgar and common-place ; and in truth Muriel quickly detected beneath a refined and polished exte rior a dwarfish intelligence and a grovelling soul. Unlike the majority of women, she was incapable of appreciating mere physical -beauty in the opposite sex, unless combined with mental qualifications. Genius, intellect, talent, these were her idols — and here lay her danger ; a being possessing these good gifts might readily, by her glowing imagination, be endowed with every moral virtue or tender sentiment, and become to her an ideal — a dream of beauty. Prom such a dream, how sure, how sad the awaken ing!

Chapter IV. Lisle Court

Lisle Court, Warwickshire, the seat of the ancient and noble family of De Lisle, is one of the most time-honoured of the world-renowned homes of old England. Home — how sweet a word ! how essen tially English ! The Prench have their " chez soi," the Italians their " casa," the Germans their " haus," the Yankees their " board ;" but we bold Britons have, thank God, our home, poor, may-be, small, simple, but not the less, whether palace or cot tage — home — ever sweet home ! Unlike those an tique remains of a feudal age, whose castellated ruins greet the eye of the traveller, as, floating down the rapid stream, he scans either bank of the storied Rhine ; the stately mansion of the De Lisles stands amid its broad acres, proudly defiant of time and change. In the massive thickness of its walls, the gloom of its oriel windows, the rare and quaint designs of its tapestries, the archæologist might discover unmistakable signs of the mediæval ages.

Lisle Court, of course, possessed its state room, with fancifully-carved bed, beneath whose richly decorated canopy and heavy curtains of somewhat tarnished gold brocade, many a head, weary of the weight of a crown (did tradition speak true) had sought, and perchance found, a temporary repose. Nor less did each venerable and gnarled oak, flinging its broad shadow over these lordly lands, tell the tale of cen turies gone by. One of the noblest of these mon archs of the forest, had, (as the white-haired lodge keeper loved to tell,) offered the shelter of his pro tecting arms, during some sudden shower, to the golden-haired Elizabeth, England's virgin queen, as on milk-white palfrey she passed near by, in those days when the gallant Earl of Leicester feted his liege lady in his Castle of Kenilworth, and, as legends go, dared to woo " the fair vestal throned in the west," while the proud Elizabeth stooped to listen, tenderly chiding, with a blush and a sigh, the bold ness of her noble Dudley.

Deep in the recess of an oriel window, in the west wing of the mansion we have just described, sat a lady, whose rich and tasteful attire well suited the graceful, matronly dignity of her mien, and bespoke her at once the mistress of the mansion and lady of the broad lands on which she gazed. The Baroness de Lisle was of that age which, however alarming to would-be youthful belles, has been pronounced by George the Fourth, when com bined with personal attractions, to be the ne plus ultra of feminine fascination. Lady de Lisle had been a great beauty — if it is fair to speak in the past tense of one whose skin is still smooth and polished as marble, and whose hair is dark, glossy, and thick, as the plumage of the raven ; for, if a closer inspection might discover here and there a thread of silver glittering amid the jetty tresses, he would be but a pitiful churl who should mark such failing, rather than dwell with respectful admiration on the Juno-like features, and those soft, dove-like glances which so sweetly modified the serenely beautiful but somewhat haughty expression of the exquisitely-formed mouth and chin, nor own that the tall, stately form had gained, rather than lost, as the slight ness of girlhood had given place to the well-developed roundness of life's meridian.