She had already begun to sigh for the glories of a literary career.

A career of some kind,--sufficient to repay her for the sufferings of her early life,--she certainly desired.

'Dear cousin Roger,' as she called him, had not seemed to her to have much power of assisting her in these views.

She was a woman who did not care much for country charms.
She had endeavoured to get up some mild excitement with the bishop, but the bishop had been too plain spoken and sincere for her.

The Primeros had been odious; the Hepworths stupid; the Longestaffes,--she had endeavoured to make up a little friendship with Lady Pomona,-- insufferably supercilious.