grass: he was smoking, and had hung up his red cap on a branch. Holland, in his iron grey suit, was leaning against the trunk; Catherine Butler and Beamish were side by side in the shadow. Georgie was in the sunshine, with her dress all beflecked with trembling lights and shades, while the elders sat at the table talking over bygone times. Catherine turned away: she could not bear the sight; it made her feel so forlorn and alone, to stand apart and watch all these people together.

Catherine was afraid, too, lest some one should come up and see her eyes full of tears as she stood watching the balls roll and listening to the tap of the mallets. It was all so lovely and yet so perverse. The sweetness, the roses, the sunshine, made it hurt more, she thought, when other things were unkind. This day's pleasure was like a false friend with a smiling face; like a beautiful sweet rose which she had picked just now, with a great sharp thorn set under the leaf. What had she done? Why did Mrs. Butler look so cold and so displeased when she spoke? Whenever she was happiest something occurred to remind and warn her that happiness was not for her. Catherine longed to be alone, but it was quite late in the afternoon before she could get away. The children were all called into the drawing-room by their sisters, and then the little governess escaped along the avenue where the rose-leaves which Beamish and Catherine had scattered were lying. She was sick at heart and disappointed. It was something more than mere vanity wounded which stung her as she realized that for some inscrutable reason it is Heaven's decree that people should not be alike, that some must be alone and some in company, some sad and some merry, that some should have the knowledge of good and others the knowledge of evil. She must not hope for roses such as Catherine's. She must not be like Georgie, even, and speak out her own mind, and make her own friends, and be her own self. It was hard to be humiliated before Dick. It was no humiliation to be a governess and to earn her own living; but to have forgotten her place, and to be sent down lower like the man in the parable ah! it was hard.

coming into it, forgot her dull speculations. It had been a flower-garden which Miss Paventry had laid out once upon a time, and it had been kept unchanged ever since. Quaint, bright, strange, it was the almost forgotten perfume of other times that these flowers were exhaling.

Catherine stayed there a long time. She could not tear herself away. She was standing by a tall lily, with her nose in the cup, sniffing up the faint sleepy fragrance, when she heard steps upon the gravel walk, and, turning round, she saw a bright red cap, and beside it a careless figure coming along with the peculiar swinging walk she knew so well. Ever after the scent of lilies conjured up the little scene.

Long afterwards Dick, too, remembered the little figure turning round with startled eyes, and looking as guilty as if it were a crime to be found smelling the lilies. Holland thought she might have been an Italian Madonna in her framework of flowers, such as the old painters loved to paint. "Have you been hiding yourself away here all the afternoon?" said Dick. "Ain't it a charming little corner ?"

The two young men waited for a few minutes, and seemed to take it for granted Catherine was coming back to the house with them.

"Do you dislike our cigars?" said Butler, seeing that she hesitated.

"Oh, no! It was ".

She stopped short, blushed, and came hastily forward. What would Mrs. Butler say, she was thinking; and then she was afraid lest they should have guessed what she thought.

What would Mrs. Butler say? What did she say when she saw the three walking quietly towards the house, sauntering across the lawn, stopping, advancing again, and talking as they came.

Catherine's fate, like most people's, was settled by chance, as it were. People seem themselves to give the signal to destiny. Fall axe, strike fatal match. Catherine dropped a rose she was holding, and Dick bent down and picked it up for her, and that was the signal. No one saw the axe, but it fell at that moment, and the poor little thing's doom was fulfilled.

Catherine wandered on without much The ladies, tired of the noise indoors, had caring where she went, until she found her- come out upon the terrace. The children self in a quaint, sunny nook, where all sorts had been dancing -a Spanish dance, they of old-fashioned flowers were blowing-called it for the last twenty minutes; tiger lilies, white lilies, balsam, carnations gracefully sliding about, and waving their in a blaze against the lichen-grown walls. legs and arms to Georgie's performance on The colours were so bright, the place so the pianoforte. The jingle of the music silent, sweet, and perfumed, that Catherine, reached the terrace, but it was only loud

enough to give a certain zest to the mildness young men. "The thing is arranged. Hushand quiet of the sunset. The long shadows sh-sh!" were streaking the hills, a glow shivered, spread, and tranquilly illumined the landscape, as the two figures on the terrace looked out at the three others advancing across the lawn.

ready to give, how little it required. And then after a time a revulsion came, and she felt as if all she wanted was to go-to go away and hide her head from them all. If it were not for Rosy and Totty, she did not care what was to come.

death-warrant which this gracious lady in | be, how long it could last, how much it was black silk robes was announcing in a particularly bland, encouraging tone of voice. What had she done? against whom had she conspired? of what treason was she guilty? "Oh, why am I to go? " said Catherine, looking up, very pale, from her book, with round dark startled eyes.

Even Mrs. Butler's much preoccupied heart was touched by the little thing's helpless, woebegone appeal.

"You have always been quite invaluable to me, my dear Miss George, and I shall miss you excessively, but it is sincerely in your own interest that I am recommending this step to you,” Mrs. Butler said, not unkindly.

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She went to bed that night with a heart aching dully, and she dreamt sad dreams until the morning came; and then, as Mrs. Butler advised, Catherine thought of consulting her friends. She walked down to Kensington to Mrs. Martingale's school, where her two chief advisers were to be found, and she wrote a couple of notes, which she posted on her way -one was to Lady Farebrother, at Tunbridge Wells, who "Oh, no, no," said Catherine, feebly belonged to the religious community there; clutching at the table-cover. "This is too the other was to Mrs. Buckington, who was far, I cannot speak French. I could not staying at Brighton for her health. It was bear to be away, to leave my sisters, every- another bright summer day; dinner was body!" And she suddenly burst out crying. over, and the schoolgirls and governesses "Oh, I am so silly, so sorry," she sobbed, seemed to have agreed to a truce, and to "for of course I must leave, if you wish it." have come out together for an hour's peace Pray, my dear Miss George," said Mrs. and refreshment on the green overgrown Butler, still kind, yet provoked, "do not garden at the back of the house. Jessadistress yourself unnecessarily. You are mines were on the walls, and there were really quite blind, on this occasion, to your spreading trees, under one of which the own advantage" (and this was a thing that French governess was reading a limp Jourwas almost incomprehensible to Mrs. But-nal des Demoiselles, smelling of hair-pins and ler). Forgive me for saying so, but I do pomatum from the drawer in which it was think it is your duty (as it is that of every kept. one of us) to make the best of circumstances, Miss Strumpf, the German governess (she particularly when there is an increase of was to leave this quarter, it was darkly salary and an excellent opportunity for whispered), was eating a small piece of improving in French. I do seriously recom- cheese which she had saved from dinner, and mend you to think my sister-in-law's propo- a rotten-looking medlar she had picked up sal well over, and to consult your friends." off the grass. Some of the girls were danAnd the messenger of fate hastened off to cing a quadrille on the lawn; others were singher davenport, and poor Catherine sat cry-ing and aimlessly rushing about the space ening, with the tears dripping over the page. No, no, no: she could not bear to go tossing about all alone in the world; it was too hard, too hard. What was she to do? Who could tell her what she was to do? Once a wild thought came to her of asking Dick to help her; he was kind - he would not let them send her away. Why were they driving her from their door? What had she done? what indeed? A swift terror jarred her through beyond the other sad complex emotions that were passing in disorder through her mind. Could they think, could they imagine for one minute? The little pale face began to burn, and the eyes to flash, and her hands seemed to grow cold with horror; but no, no, it was impossible. They could not read her heart; and if they did, what was there for them to see? They were worldly, hard people; they did not know what friendship meant, how faithful it could

closed by the four moss-grown walls, against which jessamines, and japonicas, and Virginian creepers were growing. Rosy and Totty, and a few chosen friends, were in a group on the step of the cistern. Totty, who was a quaint and funny little girl of ten, with a red curly wig, and a great deal of imagination, was telling a story: her stories were very popular among the literary portion of the community; but her heroine came to an untimely end when the narrator heard who was upstairs.

Catherine was waiting in the great drawing-room with the many windows and the photograph books, and the fancy-work mats presented by retiring pupils, and the wax water-lily on the piece of looking-glass, a tribute from an accomplished dancing-mistress. She came to meet her sisters, looking very pale, with dark rings round her eyes. Cathy, Cathy, why do you look so fun,

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ny? said Totty, clutching her round the waist.

"Oh, Totty dear," said Cathy, holding the children tight to her, and trying not to cry, and to speak cheerfully. "I look funny, because I am going away from Mrs. Butler's. I don't know what to do. I want you and Rosy to tell me what you think." And then she told them her little history in her plaintive voice, holding the hands tight-tight in hers. She had dreaded so telling them, that now that it was over, she felt happier and almost relieved; it was not nearly so bad as she had feared.

"It is no use asking our aunts," said Rosy; "they will write great long letters, and be no help at all."

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As for little Totty, she was so indignant with Mrs. Butler, so delighted at the promise of a whole six weeks' holiday next year to be spent alone with Catherine and Rosy in a cottage in the air, that she forgot the distance and the separation, and bore the news far more bravely than Catherine herself. Rosy, who was as tall as Catherine nearly, held her hand very tight, and did not say much. She was old for her agea downright girl, with more courage than poor little Catherine, and a sort of elder sister feeling for her, though she was only thirteen. But some girls have the motherly element strongly developed in them from their veriest babyhood, when they nurse their dolls to sleep upon their soft little arms, and carefully put away the little broken toy, because it must be in pain. And Rosy was one of these. She was not clever, but she seemed to understand with her heart

what other people felt. She took Cathy's aching head in her arms, and laid it on her shoulder, and kissed her again and again, as a mother might have done.

"My poor old darling," said Rosy, "don't be unhappy at leaving us; I'll take care of Totty, and some day I'll take care of you

too."

"But where shall we go to in the holidays?" said Totty, cheering up. "Let there be donkeys, please."

Fraulein Strumpf, who was curious by nature, happened to peep in at the drawingroom, door as she was passing, to see who the little girls' visitor might be. She was rather scandalized to see Rosy sitting in a big armchair, with her visitor kneeling on the floor before her, and Totty leaning with straggling legs and drooping curls over the arm. It seemed like a liberty in this grey grim drawing-room to be kneeling down on the floor, instead of sitting upright and stiff at intervals upon the high-backed chair. Even

the sunshine came in through the tall windows in subdued streaks, playing on the ancient ceiling and the worn-out carpet. The three heads were very close together, and they had settled that it was to be a farmhouse in Surrey, where they had once stayed before.

"Do you remember the little wood where we picnicked?" said Rosy, "And the farmer's cart?" cried Totty, quite happy by this time. Catherine had all the troubles of youth to bear on her poor little shoulders, but she had also its best consolation. Here she was with the other two children almost happy again at the thought of a go-cart and a baby-house, and some live toys to play with in the fields.

When she went away the colour had come back into her cheeks. Rosy and Totty were leaning over the old-fashioned tall balcony, and kissing their hands. She saw them for many a day after, and carried one more vision away with her of the quaint old square with its green garden and ancient panes and doorways, of the dear, dear little faces, smiling through their tears, and bidding her good speed.

She did not trust herself to say good-by to them again; and when Madame de Tracy went off in her cab with her maid and her tall grey boxes, little Catherine vanished too out of her accustomed corner in the schoolroom, and Fraulein Strumpf reigned in her stead. The morning's post brought Catherine two letters, which she read in the railway carriage on her way to Dover.

Mutton's Mansion, Oriental Place, Brighton. MY DEAR CATHERINE, Your letter was forwarded to me here from Park Crescent, which I left on Tuesday. For the last three weeks, I had been feeling far from well, and scarcely strong enough to bear the exertion of my daily drive round the Regent's Park. My appetite what it was to enjoy a meal. also had fallen off sadly, and I hardly knew My good friend and able physician, Dr. Pattie, urgently recommended me to try sea air; and notwithstanding my usual reluctance to move from home, I resolved to follow his advice. Dr. Pattie, considers that there is nothing equal to sea bathing for strengthening the nerves and the appetite; and he also has a high opinion of the merits of a fish diet, believing it to be exceedingly light But the difficulty here, and I believe it to be the case in all seaport towns, is to get a variety of fish. I have only twice ventured to bathe, and found it very trying; but I must say that I am daily gaining strength, and that my appetite has certainly improved, although it is not yet all that I could wish. To return to your letter. I am truly concerned to hear that anything should have occurred to unsettle your

and nutritive.