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The Admiral promised that none of his family should mention the matter, and that he would do his best to silence Mrs. Rudden, who for that matter probably believed the whole letter to have been forged, and would not enter into the enthusiasm of autographs.

'Oh, thank you! It is so kind,' said the mother; and Arthurine, who looked as if she had not slept all night, and was ready to burst into tears on the least provocation, murmured something to the same effect, which the Admiral answered, half hearing-

'Never mind, my dear, you will be wiser another time; young people will be inexperienced.'

'Is that the cruellest cut of all?' thought Miss Elmore, as she beheld her former pupil scarcely restraining herself enough for the farewell civilities, and then breaking down into a flood of tears.

Her mother hovered over her with, 'What is it? Oh! my dear child, you need not be afraid; he is so kind!'

'I hate people to be kind, that is the very thing,' said Arthurine,-'Oh! Miss Elmore, don't go!-while he is meaning all the time that I have made such a fool of myself! And he is glad, I know he is, he and his hateful, stupid, stolid daughters.'

'My dear! my dear!' exclaimed her mother.

'Well, haven't they done nothing but thwart me, whatever I wanted to do, and aren't they triumphing now in this abominable man's treachery, and my being taken in? I shall go away, and sell the place, and never come back again.'

'I should think that was the most decided way of confessing a failure,' said Miss Elmore; and as Mrs. Arthuret was called away by the imperative summons to the butcher, she spoke more freely. 'Your mother looks terrified at being so routed up again.'

'Oh, mother will be happy anywhere; and how can I stay with these stick-in-the-mud people, just like what I have read about?'

'And have gibbeted! Really, Arthurine, I should call them very generous!'

'It is their thick skins,' muttered she; 'at least so the Myttons said; but, indeed, I did not mean to be so personal as it was thought.'

'But tell me. Why did you not get on with Mesa?'

'That was a regular take-in. Not to tell one! When I began my German class, she put me out with useless explanations.'

'What kind of explanations?'

'Oh, about the Swiss being under the Empire, or something, and she would go into parallels of Saxon words, and English poetry, such as our Fraülein never troubled us with. But I showed her it would not do.'

'So instead of learning what you had not sense to appreciate, you wanted to teach your old routine.'

'But, indeed, she could not pronounce at all well, and she looked ever so long at difficult bits, and then she even tried to correct me.'

'Did she go on coming after you silenced her?'

'Yes, and never tried to interfere again.'

'I am afraid she drew her own conclusions about High Schools.'

'Oh, Miss Elmore, you used to like us to be thorough and not discursive, and how could anybody brought up in this stultifying place, ages ago, know what will tell in an exam?'

'Oh! Arthurine. How often have I told you that examinations are not education. I never saw so plainly that I have not educated you.'

'I wanted to prepare Daisy and Pansy, and they didn't care about her prosing when we wanted to get on with the book.'

'Which would have been the best education for them, poor girls, an example of courtesy, patience, and humility, or getting on, as you call it?'

'Oh! Miss Elmore, you are very hard on me, when I have just been so cruelly disappointed.'

'My dear child, it is only because I want you to discover why you have been so cruelly disappointed.'

It would be wearisome to relate all that Arthurine finally told of those thwartings by the Merrifields which had thrown her into the arms of the Mytton family, nor how Miss Elmore brought her to confess that each scheme was either impracticable, or might have been injurious, and that a little grain of humility might have made her see things very differently. Yet it must be owned that the good lady felt rather like bending a bow that would spring back again.

Bessie Merrifield had, like her family, been inclined to conclude that all was the fault of High Schools. She did not see Miss Elmore at first, thinking the Arthurets not likely to wish to be intruded upon, and having besides a good deal to think over. For she and her father had talked over the proposal, which pecuniarily was so tempting, and he, without prejudice, but on principle, had concurred with her in deciding that it was her duty not to add one touch of attractiveness to aught which supported a cause contrary to their strongest convictions. Her father's approbation was the crowning pleasure, though she felt the external testimony to her abilities, quite enough to sympathise with such intoxication of success as to make any compliment seem possible. Miss Elmore had one long talk with her, beginning by saying-

'I wish to consult you about my poor, foolish child.'

'Ah! I am afraid we have not helped her enough!' said Bessie. 'If we had been more sympathetic she might have trusted us more.'

'Then you are good enough to believe that it was not all folly and presumption.'

'I am sure it was not,' said Bessie. 'None of us ever thought it more than inexperience and a little exaltation, with immense good intention at the bottom. Of course, our dear old habits did look dull, coming from life and activity, and we rather resented her contempt for them; but I am quite sure that after a little while, every one will forget all about this, or only recollect it as one does a girlish scrape.'

'Yes. To suppose all the neighbourhood occupied in laughing at her is only another phase of self-importance. You see, the poor child necessarily lived in a very narrow world, where examinations came, whatever I could do, to seem everything, and she only knew things beyond by books. She had success enough there to turn her head, and not going to Cambridge, never had fair measure of her abilities. Then came prosperity-'

'Quite enough to upset any one's balance,' said Bessie. 'In fact, only a very sober, not to say stolid, nature would have stood it.'

'Poor things! They were so happy-so open-hearted. I did long to caution them. "Pull cup, steady hand."'

'It will all come right now,' said Bessie. 'Mrs Arthuret spoke of their going away for the winter; I do not think it will be a bad plan, for then we can start quite fresh with them; and the intimacy with the Myttons will be broken, though I am sorry for the poor girls. They have no harm in them, and Arthurine was doing them good.'

'A whisper to you, Miss Merrifield-they are going back with me, to be prepared for governesses at Arthurine's expense. It is the only thing for them in the crash that young man has brought on the family.'

'Dear, good Arthurine! She only needed to learn how to carry her cup.'

MRS. BATSEYES

I. FATHER AND DAUGHTER

SCENE.-The drawing-room of Darkglade Vicarage. Mr. Aveland, an elderly clergyman. Mrs. Moldwarp, widow on the verge of middle age.

Mr. A. So, my dear good child, you will come back to me, and do what you can for the lonely old man!

Mrs. M. I know nothing can really make up-

Mr. A. Ah! my dear, you know only too well by your own experience, but if any one could, it would be you. And at least you will let nothing drop in the parish work. You and Cicely together will be able to take that up when Euphrasia is gone too.