of his sex, he had a profound horror of feminine tears, and the sight of a white cambric pocket-handkerchief made a coward of him, on the spot; he could only assure Janetta that she had proved her value beyond a doubt, and that he was quite sure his poor Mattie had never meant to say anything unkind; she had her likes and dislikes, certainly—and who had not? and some people were by nature a little irrational in their prejudices-and Marris ought to have known better than chatter before a child, who, on her side, ought to be taught that little people were to be seen, rather than to be heard!

And Miss Hilda, who had rather inconveniently quick perceptions, straightway wriggled off her uncle's knee, and, with an offended air, remarked that little girls should say what they liked, as well as great big, grown-up women, if they told the truth; and she did hear Nurse telling Mrs. Tillotson that "Auntie Mattie hated Janetta Morrison like poison!"

After that there was no more to be said. Frank felt that Hilda was speaking the truth; and he knew, too, that Mrs. Marris had not belied her deceased mistress; but he felt extremely angry with the child, and with the servant, who had combined to place him in a most disagreeable position. He could only tell the former that she was a naughty, impertinent little girl, and resolve to expound himself rather severely to Nurse Marris, at the very first opportunity.

Hilda was dismissed in disgrace, and threatened with punishment if she talked so improperly again; she marched out of the room with heightened colour and flashing eyes, remarking, just as she closed the door with a bang, that nasty people were made to be hated, and she should always hate everybody that had little, screwed-up, black eyes! With which eminently Christian sentiment this young lady retreated to the nursery, and amid a flood of angry tears confided to Nurse Marris all that had transpired in the morning-room, greatly to the dismay and discomfiture of that faithful retainer of the Warleigh family, who inwardly vowed on the spot never to speak quite so frankly again in the presence of proverbial "little pitchers."

As for Frank, he absolutely bolted, pretending that he must catch a certain omnibus for the City, as he had an engagement that could on no account be postponed; but his last words, as he stood with the door in his hand, were :-" Pray, Janetta, don't give another thought to Hilda's foolish prattle, and servants' gossip is, of course, not worthy remembrance! You had better make your own arrangements to-day, for I quite intend to start for Southcombe early next week. I have very little doubt but that River House is to be had, and on my own terms. I shall take it, I

think, for three months, and ran up and down myself, as business will permit. I will speak to Mrs. Marris this evening."

"Three months!" mused Janetta, when she found herself alone in her own chamber. "That will bring it to October, and it will be November before the household settles down again; and then it will be strange, indeed, if I cannot stretch the point of hospitality till Christmas is well over! And then-and then!"

And Janetta was lost in her own reflections. She was really calculating that at Christmas Mrs. Willabye would have been in her grave for more than the traditional "twelve months and a day," and that Cousin Frank would be quite justified in a little harmless flirtation, just pour passer le temps-at any rate, during the festive season. There was plenty of time, however, to settle any minor questions that might arise, and to perfect every plan, for it was only July now, and there was the long summer at Southcombe before her, during which a thousand possibilities might and would arise; and Janetta was no woman to let slip opportunities from thoughtlessness, or laziness, or from scruples of any kind.

"I never will go back to the Skinners," she said, with a certain emphasis and deliberation peculiar to herself; "I think I see my way before me, though the greatest caution, the utmost prudence, the supremest self-control will be required. I must make that little imp of mischief adore me, coute-qui-coute! I must condone all her impertinences, put up with all her tantrums, make myself essential to her happiness-be ber bond slave, in short, if I mean to gain the end I make my goal. And Marris, too, will need a heap of patience and forbearance, or I shall never have the honour of being her mistress. Never mind! I think I can be as humble and self-repressed as most. I know how to efface myself, if need be, and nothing pays better than meekness and humility and flattery. I don't care how much humble-pie I force myself to eat for the next six months if only I may have the legal right to order Mr. Willabye's dinners for all the rest of my natural life."

Then she steadfastly contemplated herself in the large mirror before which she was seated. She would not like to relinquish that handsome swing-glass, unless it were for a better; and she would miss dreadfully the beautiful plate-glass panel in the commodious wardrobe, which would have accommodated her modest stock of toilettes half-a-dozen times over. She would miss the luxurious sofa at the foot of the bed; the richly-toned, soft carpets that were so pleasant to her feet; the costly ware upon the marble wash-stand; the pretty Rose du Barri set, upon the handsome dressing-table.

She had no room of her own at the Skinners'; she shared her

shabby chamber with several of the children, and washed them and dressed them in the morning, and put them to bed at night, and kept their clothes in order. Especially she thought with contempt of the miserable little looking-glass in which alone she could contemplate her charms.

"No," she continued, when she had steadfastly regarded her own image for several minutes, "I will not go back to be brow-beaten and trampled upon by Mrs. Mary Sophia Skinner! I think—I think, I have the game in my own hands, if I only practise due caution. I see the rôle I must enact, the part I must quietly take, if I am to succeed. And I must succeed! I may never have such an opportunity again. All must be borne, all must be risked; I have everything to gain and nothing to lose. And why should I not profit by my advantage? Why not take the good the gods are kind enough to send me ? Fate has favoured me but little up to this present time. Let Fortune smile but cnce, and she shall not smile in vain. And if I win the game-and I think I shall, for I hold good cards, and know what to do with my hand-you and I will have a bone to pick together, Mrs. Sarah Marris; and you and I will have a little quarrel of our own, Miss Warleigh, of Warleigh Place."

And all that day as she took her walks abroad in the square with Hilda, and in Oxford Street and Regent Street by herself; as she lovingly regarded sheeny silks and soft, lustrous satins and delicate laces; and as she disdainfully reviewed her own too scanty wardrobe afterwards, and wondered if she could not manage a seaside costume or two on credit-she was saying, almost unconsciously and quite involuntarily, "Everything to gain and nothing to lose! No; nothing to lose, and all to gain!"

CHAPTER IV.-CHANGE OF AIR.

There was a certain amount of correspondence to be gone through, a few necessary stipulations to be made, and the contract was concluded, which gave Mr. Frank Willabye the temporary ownership of "River House," at Southcombe, in the county of Chalkshire. Hilda was wild with delight, and insisted on her white pussy accompanying her to the seaside. Mrs. Marris was in high good-humour at the thought of so speedily visiting the scenes of her youth, and more amiably disposed towards Miss Morrison than she had ever been before. For Mr. Willabye had not discharged the vials of his wrath, according to his first intention, on the offending head of that incautious matron, because Janetta had begged and implored him to keep silence "for her sake." She could not bear that that faithful creature should be reprimanded on

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her account; she had only shared, perhaps, her late mistress's prejudice against herself. Martha would not have been prejudiced had she only known her a little better. She was not to blame; Marris was not to blame; nobody was to blame. As for sweet Hilda, she was only a petted child, accustomed to say what came uppermost; it would never do to check her natural frankness, her beautiful fearlessness of spirit. It would give her, Janetta, the keenest pain; it would cut her to the heart to be the occasion of any dissension in the family circle-to be the source of dispute, to be accredited, perhaps, with mischief-making!

So Frank, who greatly disliked the ungracious and unthankful office of fault-finder, was only too happy to refrain his lips; and Nurse who had fully expected the reproof, which she knew that she well deserved, felt all the more charitably towards Janetta, inasmuch as, through her, came not the lecture she had apprehended.

It was not "quite the thing," Janetta acknowledged, to remain for so long time the guest of a widower! She even opened her mind on that point to Mrs. Marris, and confessed that she quite felt the delicacy of her position; but then-what could she do? The Skinners would not have her back again at any price; she dared not visit any of her friends, lest she should carry with her the so much-dreaded infection; she was not rich enough to take lodgings on her own account; what else was left to her but to accept Mr. Willabye's cordial invitation to River House?

And Marris could find no word of actual disapproval. It was, as Miss Morrison said, a case of "Hobson's choice;" there was really no alternative, and if people "talked "-why then, they must talk; if foolish scandal arose, the best and wisest way was jast to live it down. With a pure heart and a clear conscience, it did not much matter what idle gossip said. Besides, while they were at Southcombe, Janetta would constitute herself dear little Hilda's governess, and in that capacity she would wish to be considered by the general public.

Nurse agreed with her that this was a very good idea. It was in the fitness of things that Miss Warleigh of Warleigh should have a governess all to herself, and who so fit for the self-assumed post as Miss Morrison, who had about as much influence over that young lady as it was possible for any one to exert ? Lessons or no lessons, the office would be no sinecure; it took a great deal of diplomacy, as well as of patience, to keep Hilda on her good behaviour, since discipline of every kind, reproof, and punishment were strictly forbidden.

"You could not do better," assented Marris, when the matter had been fully discussed. "Of course, it will be so easy and

natural to speak of you as Miss Hilda's governess; and if you are properly careful not to be seen too continually in the master's company, and if you don't behave yourself exactly as a guest, there can't much be said, anyhow. And it is not at all as if you were young and pretty, Miss Morrison; it's a comfort to be getting just a little elderly; and an ordinary face and figure are safeguards in any condition of life. I often think girls like Miss Bloomfield are to be pitied for their good looks. If a young woman is thrown upon the world and bound to get her own living, the plainer she is the better for her!

"Indeed," replied Janetta, suavely, "you are quite right, nurse; beauty is too often a curse rather than a blessing, and handsome is that handsome does.'

But while she spoke thus mildly, she was raging within herself, for Janetta, strange to say, did not consider herself plain, much less ugly! She had fretted over her complexion, and wished a thousand times that she had the tender bloom, the pink-and-white prettiness, of other girls. She had mourned what Mrs. Marris privately called her "want of feature"; but she had gloried in her profusion of raven hair, such as she had never seen surpassed, and she had persuaded herself that she might easily rank as a pale brunette. It did not please her to be told that she was "ordinary" and "insignificant," and even as Mrs. Marris spoke, there came into her black, glittering eyes that snake-like expression that had so often repelled poor Martha Willabye. Janetta was saying something in her heart that Mrs. Marris would not have cared to hear with her outward but she could see that she had made some mistake, ears; which Miss Morrison refused to condone, and she had a shadowy idea that one more of many offences was at that moment scored down to her account. Janetta had a most tenacious memory, and she never forgot, much less forgave, remarks of an uncomplimentary character, such as those now uttered. She pursed up her mouth and screwed up her eyes till Hilda, coming unobserved into the room, exclaimed, "Oh, Janetta, how very ugly you look! What is the matter?"

Then Janetta caught her up in her arms and kissed her fondly. "Everybody cannot always look pretty and good-tempered, you clever little pussy-cat!" she replied; "you will find that out when you know a little more of the world, won't she, Mrs. Marris ? "

"Am I always pretty?" asked Miss Hilda, standing on tiptoe, that she might consult the locking-glass.

"Yes, my dear, when you are a good girl," was nurse's prompt assurance. "But an angel wouldn't look pretty in a passion! Nothing spoils beauty like naughtiness and bad temper, Miss