to read aloud for an evening to the Bloomford Ladies’ Mutual Improvement Society (a recent development of the Sewing-Club before-mentioned) came, in the “Vicar of Wakefield,” to those unfortunate sentiments of Dr. Primrose on the very question at issue, she was forthwith stopped by a chorus of dissentients, and the book was no more read aloud in the Society; it being whispered by one or two members, that, after all, Goldsmith did not display that delicacy of conception necessary in one whose works are to be fitted for mutual improvement.
Whether Mr. Norman was aware of this and the like matters it would not be easy to say; in all probability not. His life became every day more solitary and secluded; to such an extent, indeed, as to give rise to the remonstrances of his more sensible friends. As his wont was, he listened with amiability to all who found an opportunity of addressing him, but without the slightest effect upon his conduct.
By nature little disposed to social life, he now lived more and more in the company of his books and his thoughts. His grief had, of course, calmed as time wore on; had become, indeed, somewhat of a quiet pleasure, finding its expression in long hours of reverie wherein his thoughts were busiest with multiplying idealisations of his dead wife, and of the bliss he had enjoyed with
