She suddenly raised her slight figure to its full height, and looked on her companion with a countenance expressive of such malignant triumph, that all, save her companion in iniquity, must have shuddered as they beheld such youthful features so deformed.  Some other conversation passed between her and her able confidant, but as little more was said on the subject most interesting to us, we will not follow them further.  Annie’s evil schemes are already too clearly displayed; her mind unable, as Miss Malison’s, to comprehend the exalted nature of Mrs. Hamilton’s character, looked upon it with detestation; the more so, as feeling she was ever acting—­she believed it hypocrisy; that the worth for which even those who visited her not gave her credit, was not her real character, but an artful veil to conceal evil qualities.  The quick penetration of Miss Grahame had even in childhood discovered that she was no favourite, and accustomed to be spoiled and flattered by all with whom she associated, her indignation and dislike towards the only one who would dare treat her differently, look on her as a mere child, rendered ridiculous by affectation, increased with her years.  She soon discovered the influence she possessed over Caroline, and on that, knowing also her faults, she determined to work, and thus effectually destroy the peace of a mother devoted to her children, and prove to the world that the eccentric seclusion of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton for their children’s benefit was productive of no more good, if as much as the plain and in her eyes only useful plan of fashionable education.

In her first scheme she had already succeeded more than she was perhaps conscious.  The affair of St. Eval had clearly and painfully proved to Mr. Hamilton that the fears of his wife the night of Caroline’s introduction—­those anxious fears, were indeed well founded.  She had sunk beneath temptation; integrity and honour, and every better feeling had been overcome by that inordinate love of power which her mother from the first had seen and dreaded.  The father’s heart was pained and disappointed, not only in this, but that his Caroline now was not the same as she had been at Oakwood.  A change had come over her, and darkening her spirit, rendered her conduct at home gloomy, distrustful, and uneasy; the irritability of her childhood had returned, her very conversation appeared restrained, and since the departure of Lord St. Eval, her cheek had become pale, and her eye no longer sparkling; and only in the excitement of society her parents beheld her as formerly.  Mr. Hamilton was deeply grieved, but he knew not, guessed not the extent of his wife’s anguish.  She saw every foreboding fear fulfilled; the confidence of her child was entirely withheld from her; the coldness with which she felt compelled to treat her disregard of her wishes had, she felt assured, completely alienated her affection.  Caroline could no longer love her; every week, every day proved, by a hundred minute