These precautions, however, were quite unnecessary. Millie had never once connected the idea of money with employment, and without giving the pecuniary part of the matter any consideration whatever, she promised Mrs Storer to be with her during the following week.

There was something touching, and at the same time almost out of place, in Mrs Storer's grateful adieu to Millie; indeed, some great misunderstanding seemed busy amongst all, as Sir Timothy, who had been passively sitting in the carriage during the whole of this visit, evidently felt that Millie had conferred a favour on her employers, and Lady Puffington was obliged to call into action all the energy she had been recommending to Millie to endeavour to nullify this impression, so at variance with all her ideas of patronage.

Sir Timothy was only roused from his slumbers, during the homeward drive, by the exhortations of his louder-half to Millie. "You must cultivate economy and prudence, my love," she said, taking up from the events of the morning quite a matronly manner, from which Millie shudderingly revolted. "You might save something from your salary, if you were to dress less expensively."

"Lady Puffington only means you to understand that you must not be quite so generous, Miss," said Sir Timothy, opening his large eyes and speaking solemnly, as if yet partially in a dream. The word "Dolt!" escaped her ladyship's lips, but evidently by

L

mere accident, for her look and manner told that she was anxious to gather it up again from the conspicuous place where it had fallen, if one might judge from Millie's unfeigned look of astonishment.

But the visit was at length over, and the shadows of home brooded lovingly round Millie on her return. She told her brother, calmly and courageously enough, that the engagement was made, and that next week she would be in very truth a governess.

Is it surprising, that when she reached the workroom her over-wrought heart found relief in tears? And Mary Simmons did not speak one word-she only knelt by the side of the old arm-chair in which her dear young mistress sat, and a living crystal imparted a spiritual lustre to Millie's small turquoise ring. It was Mary's quiet gift—a tear.

CHAPTER XX.

CHAFING TROUBLES.

AND there Millie sat till the grey twilight had ceased to trace even the outline of the window-frame, till it had given up its reign to the stars, which seemed to come forth hesitatingly and sorrowfully on that misty evening.

She was alone, for Mary had left her to arrange matters of business with Arthur.

As Millie sat there, she called to mind various heroines of whom she had read and heard, who, with extraordinary resolution and determination, had battled with life as governesses, but only for a little while, and then had been marvellously extricated from their difficulties. Yet Millie's sober thought could not find any place in real life for these favoured beings, therefore she became more sorrowful, and found a spurious sort of relief in a measure perhaps understood by us all,-from waywardly placing before her the withered leaves of gladness, which, alas! so prematurely spoke of hope decayed in the very springtime of her life.

She was reluctant to give to the irritating annoyances of that morning the name of trial. What a different aspect would they have worn had their harsh outline been softened and sanctified by prayer!

She had felt herself inadequate, from the tendril

peculiarity of her nature, to cope alone with a mind of the texture of Lady Puffington's, and by some strange but widely prevalent infatuation she shrunk from asking guidance and support from her heavenly Father. She would have gone to him in the secret heart-pain, however inconsiderable the source whence it arose, but in her estimate of this annoyance she had come to the conclusion that to the sympathy of the Man of Sorrows she could lay no claim; consequently in the shadows of this misunderstanding she groped her way, fancying that the darkness was unavoidable, and placing a barrier between her wearied heart and the comfort of that assurance so suited to her need, "Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride of man.”

By one of those sudden impulses often the effect of a mind inwardly dissatisfied with itself, she asked Arthur to accompany her to Cedar Lodge, for both were in a mood to derive sympathy and solace from night.

It was a winter's night, too, but the river was not frozen. It rolled darkly along, as if moodily anticipating its bondage. They talked together of the changes which had come over them, and drew out a melancholy solace from this communion.

In the intuitive delicacy of her maiden heart, she had hitherto refrained from owning to Arthur the sorrow that had fallen on her young life from Mr Strafford's departure, but all her other grievances had been laid before him, and she felt proud of the

fancied resolution with which she imagined she had refrained from burdening her brother with her great trouble. Dear Millie! she forgot that Arthur's very presence carried with it a sense of sympathy,―that by the electricity of a look, or the very sadness of a smile, we are at once drawn out of the loneliness of sorrow.

The unconscious influence of this feeling was at length diffused through her manner, and a diffident hopefulness might almost have been heard in the tones of her gentle voice, for in her present grief she knew nothing of the subduing power of the wear and tear of continued trial to which those yield who have been long initiated to suffering. Then all at once, by a little clearing away of the fog, they could perceive, through the leafless branches of the distant chestnut trees, the watery stars looking palely out, as if weeping for the summer that had passed away; and where a short time before glossy foliage and flowery grass had whispered and trembled to the night breeze, there was but a grave for withered leaves, whilst an unhealthy damp had settled all around.

But a gentle and cheerful light broke on all this. Hopefully it quivered on the leafless boughs; it gleamed on the stream a narrow line of gold, and rested almost cheerily on the bank beyond.

Whence this gentle shining, and why was Arthur the first to discover it?

It was the lamp from Florence's room, and through the blind might be distinguished the drooping and tremulous shadow of her form.