TRIALS. CHAPTER I. "WHAT do you mean to do with that child, brother?" said Lady Vincent, one morning at breakfast, to the father of a tall, well-grown girl, about fifteen. "Miss Mathews told me yesterday that she was getting quite too much for her; and upon my word I think so too." "Dear aunt," exclaimed Catherine, whilst her father was studying for a reply, which, in truly acknowledging that he did not know what to do with her, was to convey to the comprehension of his sister a gentle hint that he should be much obliged to her to take his daughter off his hands, "dear aunt, what occasion is there to do any thing with me? I am sure I am happy enough with my plants, and my books, and my poney, and my dear Fidele ;"-and she began to caress a pretty little spaniel that lay at her feet: "and I give no trouble to any body, if they would but let me alone; but they never can for five minutes together. If I run off into the shrubbery to get a little air, there is Miss Mathews, Miss Catherine, I am shocked! without your hat, without your gloves, and running off in that manner! is that |