was the admiration of the neighborhood. Her distinction of manner was thought supreme. She quite enjoyed the success of her project, and made her little pupils very happy, and ruled Miss Blogg with a rod of iron. She commanded the approval of every one, from the parson of the parish down to the ticket-keeper at the gate of the Crystal Palace gardens. These same gardens were a favorite haunt of hers, when she wanted to be alone. Leaving the submissive Blogg in charge, she would wander for an hour or two in their quieter parts. Here, one day, she was surprised and startled to encounter an old acquaintance. It was a Frenchman, who might have been any age between twenty-five and fifty; his face was clean shaven, his coat buttoned to the neck, and he wore a ribbon of the Legion of Honor. "I must, as you know." "Parbleu! your ill temper is enough to make one angry. It is an easy and lucrative job, as you know. Would you like to be sent back to Paris?" She knew full well that the French police could cause her to be apprehended at any moment. So she had nothing to do but obey, and, having signified her intention to do so, was courteously saluted by the Frenchman, and left to her own meditations. Foolishly enough, she fancied she had escaped from espionage, and was now a free woman. This incident taught her that she was a slave for life. She did not dislike the work she was now ordered to do, but she regretted the loss of her freedom. However, it was not to be avoided, so she made the best of it, and turned her attention to the business in hand. Was it not fortunate that she had tamed "Ah, Madame," said this somewhat dubious person, "I am rejoiced to see you." Madame did not seem exhilarated by the Blogg? She should be Cecile's personal atmeeting. tendant, and should extract from her all her "I have been thinking of calling upon you," secrets. Blogg's plausible fawning style would he continued, "but I felt sure that I should be the very thing. Blogg should be instructed meet you here some day, and you might not to abuse Madame, and apparently to make comcare to receive me at your residence. It is a mon cause with the fair prisoner. As the comnice place, and you have some pretty little stu- ing comedy in all its details passed before her dents. You are in clover, Madame. But I fancy, her eyes sparkled and her lips smiled, hope you do not treat those pretty children as and she forgot all her previous annoyance. you did the young demoiselles at Rouen." was a task after Madame's own heart. Madame did not answer. "You should not be out of temper, Teresa Moretti," he said. "We know what you have been doing, and are satisfied with you. You gave us useful information concerning Catelan and his friends. But you must be prepared always to obey orders; you do not want to be in the Mazas again, do you?" "What am I to do ?" she asked. "What you will like very well. To-morrow at one o'clock a splendid equipage will stop at your gate, and an old gentleman dressed as a general officer will hand out a young lady of about eighteen. He will tell you that he has heard of your excellent establishment, and that he wishes to place his ward with you as a parlor boarder. He will offer you two hundred a year, which you will doubtless accept. He will stipulate that she shall be treated with great respect by every one, except of course yourself, and that she is to have a personal attendant always near her. He will name her to you as Mademoiselle Cecile de Castelnau. She is " Madame started with surprise. "Yes. Now this is your duty. She is to be kept under close surveillance, with as little apparent rigor as possible. The personal attendant whom you select must never be far away from her, and must prevent her communicating with any one. Every letter that she receives or sends must be opened, copied, and the copies sent to me. It is not necessary for me to tell you why this is to be done. If you read her correspondence, your quick brain will find out the secret. Now, will you attend to my or ders ?" It She went home and scolded Blogg sharply for having allowed one of the little girls to fall down and soil her dress, and wrote a gossiping letter to Miss Sheldon, and read prayers, and then had supper. Her spirits were quite elevated by the prospect of some professional business. The conversa Next day occurred that which had been predicted. The superb equipage arrived; the grand general alighted; and then also alighted a tall young lady of aristocratic appearance and haughty and reserved manners. tion between the general and the school-mistress took precisely the form which had been foretold, Mademoiselle de Castelnau not saying a word as it proceeded. When all had been arranged, the general took stately leave of his ward, and went away alone. Hereupon Madame ordered Miss Blogg to appear, and desired her to wait on Mademoiselle de Castelnau to a room which she had assigned to her. The young lady, who had said nothing since the first few words of ordinary introduction, followed Miss Blogg at once. 'Now, I wonder," soliloquized Madame, "what this may mean. There is some mystery. I shall find out, Vionnet says: I suppose so; but he would have saved some trouble by giving me a hint. The girl is haughty and silent, and will be rather troublesome, I fancy.. Never mind, I think I can manage her." At dinner-time Cecile de Castelnau was very quiet, had very little appetite, and answered Madame's remarks with polite brevity. The little girls looked with wide-open eyes at this new arrival, who awed them by her proud melan choly. When nine o'clock arrived, Madame | telnau had made when she retired. She thought desired Miss Blogg to accompany the young lady to her bedroom. Cecile went without a murmur, saluting Madame with a stately courtesy at the door. "Come to me when you have attended on Mademoiselle, Blogg," said the school-mistress. When Miss Blogg returned, Madame was comfortably seated at the table, and a maidservant was just bringing in an appetizing little supper. Simple enough: a dish of liver and sweetbread, with peas and asparagus; nothing more. But, with a bottle of tolerable claret, one may manage to sup on such material. "Take a chair, Blogg," said Madame, affably, after the servant had removed the covers and left the room. "I dare say you can manage to eat a little supper." Blogg was very much delighted, but even more surprised. She was rather a gluttonous young person, and a little supper of this kind was like a taste of Elysium to her. It was a practice of hers to declare that she did not care what she ate; but there was not a greedier young woman in Europe. "I am greatly pleased with you lately, Blogg -you are much improved. If you go on so well, I shall probably increase your salary," said Madame, by-and-by. it would be a fine thing to imitate it; but a courtesy, an elegant movement when the knees which bend to make it are those of a tall slender girl in amplitude of silk, is rather grotesque when performed by a dumpy young woman, short-legged, with clinging petticoats. Madame had a quiet laugh for full ten minutes after Miss Blogg had left. "That good Blogg!" she ejaculated. "What will she try to do next?" Next morning after breakfast, Madame had an interview with her new pupil in her private room, sending Blogg to bring her thither. "Take a seat, Cecile," she said. "Now will you tell me what studies you particularly prefer to pursue? With a young lady of your age it is always best to attend to those subjects which are most attractive." "Thank you, Madame. I wish particularly to read English and Italian. I have been studying Shakspeare a little, and desire to continue. And I should like to practise drawing, but do not much care about music. I have no voice to sing, and the piano is tiresome." "It shall be arranged as you wish. We have an excellent drawing-master. You shall read Italian with me, and English with Miss Maitland. Miss Blogg is to become your personal Miss Blogg, who received thirty pounds a attendant, and I hope you will inform me if year, was eloquently grateful. you are at all dissatisfied with her." "The young lady who came here this afternoon is to reside here as a parlor-boarder. What has she said to you as yet?" "Ah," thought Madame, "an oversight of mine. She must not have a key to that door." "Take another glass of wine, Blogg; it won't hurt you. Now, listen to me. You are to attend on this young lady at all times; I shall get some one else to do your duty with the little girls. When I permit her to go out, you will go with her; and you must be careful to prevent her talking to any one. I wish all her letters brought to me-those she writes and those she receives. I can not tell you the reason of these precautions; but her friends wish her very carefully looked after. Now, you must do this, and be quiet about it-don't say a word to Miss Tattleton or any body else." "Oh no, ma'am !" exclaimed Miss Blogg. "I shall find you out if you do," said Madame, severely; "and I shall not again forgive you." "I will be very careful indeed, ma'am," said Blogg, half crying. "I will do all you tell me -indeed I will." "If you do," said Madame, graciously, "you shall not have cause to regret it. Now you can go to bed. Call the young lady at seven to morrow, and assist her to dress." Poor Miss Blogg had greatly admired the majestic courtesy which Mademoiselle de Cas In the afternoon Madame told Cecile that she had better take a walk, and ordered Miss Blogg to accompany her. During her absence, Madame went to her room, locked herself in, and commenced a search for correspondence. All the boxes and cases were locked, but this did not trouble Madame, who had a bunch of skeleton keys, and used them like an adept. She found little to enlighten her. In a writingdesk there were letters from girl-friends, and scraps of girl-poetry, French and English, and a few girl-photographs-nothing of any kind to indicate any communication with the other sex. Madame was disappointed. "The sly "Never mind," she reflected. creature carries her love-letters about with her. I must search her pockets to-night." So she retired, taking with her the key of the chamber. She Mademoiselle de Castelnau took no notice of the key's disappearance. She was polite, and reserved, and submissive, and did precisely what she was told. She took her drawing-lessons. She read Italian-it was Tasso - with Madame, who was a capital instructress. read Shakspeare with Miss Maitland, who had never looked into Shakspeare. But the moment she was told of what she should have to do, Margaret Maitland, with characteristic energy, set to work upon Shakspeare; read through all the plays and all the annotations of an old edition which she happened to possess, and contrived to keep herself well in advance of her pupil. Cecile, a few days after her arrival, asked a paragraph from the "Westmorland Gazette," which stated that the head of the house of Vivian had visited Hawksmere after an absence of a quarter of a century, having been copied into the "Times." Miss Blogg where there was a post-office. That | Sir Alured was gone. This difficulty (like excellent person replied that Madame de Lon- many others) was one day removed by accident, gueville sent all letters to the post herself. In this arrangement the young lady at once acquiesced, and in the course of the day handed to her attendant several letters, all addressed to lady correspondents. They were all sealed with a pretty fantastic device: but we need hardly say that Madame de Longueville could copy the impression of a seal in bread, and melt wax with the steam from a kettle. Both processes she performed with exquisite dexterity; and read the letters, and caused them to be copied, and sealed them again. The demoralized Blogg copied all these letters save one, which Madame herself executed. It was addressed to Miss Trafford; but, strange to say, it began-"Dearest Charles." "Here I am, at school," wrote the young lady. "Isn't it fun? But I was determined not to return to France just now-and dear Maman could not give up her Trouville-and so we made a compromise. If they get me back in Paris they will want to marry me to that odious Prince de L, with the green eyes and no waist. Poor dear Maman says in her indifferent way, 'Marry him, child, marry him! He is a foolish fellow. You will be able to do what you like with him.' And he certainly is the most foolish young Prince I ever met. But I have lived in England, Charlie dear, and have met you, and I don't mean to have Prince Greeneyes. It will be hard work for me, you know. I can not expect any help from poor Maman; she is as weak as water; and my property is very much wanted in a certain family. "I can't write you a very long letter, Charlie, for I have to write to several other young ladies. Be careful what you write to me; for you may be sure I am under surveillance-indeed the principal of the establishment is quite like a mouchard of the politer sort. She must be an Italian. I am reading Tasso with her, and she knows the language perfectly. I behave like a very obedient child, you know, for it is not worth while to quarrel with people of this sort. I go to bed at nine, and rise at seven, which is good for the health. "Write to me, darling." Madame laughed very much over this letter, which she copied herself. It was the first scrap of information she had obtained, for her search among Cecile's personal apparel, effected while the young lady slept, had been without result. It was addressed, as I have said, to Miss Trafford, at the Colossus Hotel. Madame at once resolved to pay an evening visit to Miss Sheldon. Assiduously had the two ladies corresponded, and the little actress had been much edified and amused by the subjugation of Blogg. Naturally, the question as to what was to be done about Sir Alured Vivian had been discussed in all its bearings: but for a long time there was this unmanageable obstacle, that there was no finding out whither Madame was in the gardens of the Palace that afternoon, and again encountered her friend Vionnet. "I hope you are pleased with your pupil, Madame," he said. "Cop "Perfectly satisfied," she answered. ies of the first letters she has written were posted to you this morning. Only one of them is at all important." "I came here this afternoon in the hope of meeting you, Madame," he said, "in order to say you must take charge of this young lady during the vacation. You would like change of air, I dare say, and she may as well travel a little. Take her to some quiet part of England or Wales. Take some other companion if you like, for I dare say she is not the pleasantest company. We shall not be illiberal. There is a check on account." It was filled up for an amount that quite satisfied Madame. That evening, as she had intended, she went to the Colossus, having now a double inducement. For it occurred to her that Emily Sheldon would be a nice travelling companion, and that her easy gayety would compensate Cecile's haughty melancholy; also, that Emily might perhaps do some good to herself by going into Westmorland. Her project therefore was to induce Miss Sheldon to join her party, and to take her house or lodgings in the lake district as near Hawksmere as possible. So, at eight o'clock, she reached the drawingroom of the Colossus Hotel, where pretty piquant Emily Sheldon was quite the central figure. Always a lively scene, that same drawing-room; pretty women dressed to perfection, and a susurrus of melodious voices, and a general gayety of tone, make it one of the pleasantest places in London. If, however, as I have heretofore observed, American women dress more charmingly than English women, unluckily American men dress worse, and are far more awkward and ungainly than Englishmen. They are angular fellows, and have an absurd mania for black apparel. It may be laid down as an axiom of costume that none but handsome well-built men look well in black, and that a man who looks well in black looks immeasurably better in any other color. There was no extraordinary excitement this evening-no lecture on Spiritualism or Mormonism or sexual equality or woman's rights. There was nothing save music and flirtation— both of which were going on merrily. Madame de Longueville found her fascinating friend gayly fencing with several gentlemen-one of whom, a young fellow of thirty-five, about six feet four, and as straight as an arrow, struck Madame as the handsomest man she had ever "Let us drink to our sweethearts!" cried Colonel Trafford, merrily. "Now, ladies, I must fill your goblets. I'm a lover in difficulties myself, and I mean to conquer them. Will you drink to my success, Miss Sheldon ?" "With pleasure. But I thought I was to drink to my own sweetheart." "And that isn't me. Oh, you cruel child! Why, I thought I was making a proposal in the most delicate manner possible." seen. He was a soldier, evidently—a cavalry He was now gayly flirting with little Emily Sheldon. Madame joined the group, and was heartily welcomed by her little friend, and introduced to the various gentlemen who surrounded her. When she caught the name of Colonel Trafford, she thought she had solved a problem. "And "Cecile's lover!" she said to herself. they suit each other well. I don't think I could do any thing to prevent that splendid fellow from having his way. He is too handsome." His voice broke in upon her reflections. "Now, Miss Sheldon," he said, "I'll tell you what we must do. The night is hot. I think there's thunder in the air. Ladies require refreshment. Iced Champagne is the proper thing-the question is, what Champagne do you prefer?" "I shall leave it to you," said Emily. "I vote for Heidseck. Waiter! a few bottles of Heidseck, and some fruit and biscuits and stuff. Now let us begin to spend the evening." As he gave the order, another waiter handed him a letter on a salver. Madame's quick eye noted it. It was the very letter of Cecile's which that morning she had copied, and which was addressed to Miss Trafford. Waiters, I suppose, are accustomed to these little irregularities. He went aside to a chandelier, read the letter with a pleasant smile on his face, and came back to his company. The easy way in which he threw back his light curly hair seemed to show that he cared nothing for difficulties. Madame could not help admiring him. "That's the sort of man," she thought. "I'll help him, if I can do it safely. He will marry Cecile, I am certain." The Heidseck was drunk-they had a gay evening-the beau sabreur was as brilliant as if there were to be a battle the next morning. The other men caught the infection, and the group was so joyous that all the other denizens of the drawing-room looked that way, and listened to the easy cffervescent talk. "Well," said Miss Sheldon, "that is a sort of thing which can be done in a good many different ways; yours is new, at all events. The objection to it is, that a good many people might not understand it." "That might sometimes be an advantage," remarked one of the other men. "Shall we have some music?" asked anoth"Miss Sheldon, you have not given us a song for many nights. Do be gracious this evening." "Music is "Yes," said Colonel Trafford. the food of love. Love is lucky when you feed him with music, Miss Sheldon." Hereupon the fair Emily went to the piano, and burst into song in the following fashion : "Oh, braid thou lilies, maiden fair, Into the folds of thy dark brown hair, White as foam of the wide salt sea; Love and Death do wait for thee When summer is high over wold and lea: In a thousand kisses shall cling to thee. Therefore let me woo you, With songs of this sort, evidently the production of some American poet, Miss Sheldon enlivened the evening. But the pleasantest evenings come to an end, and by-and-by the gentlemen gradually dispersed. Madame de Longueville, whose ears were curiously keen, fancied she heard a low whisper of the word Cremorne. Possibly: it was a very hot evening. The two ladies were left together. Madame had intended to ask Emily Sheldon's help in explaining the "Miss Trafford " problem. Accident had saved her the trouble, and she decided to say nothing to her friend on the subject. She was in the habit of keeping to herself her little bits of stray knowledge, aware from experience that they were sometimes useful and profitable. Hence she had only to communicate to Emily her intention of travelling during the vacation, and to propose that they should go into Sir Alured Vivian's neighborhood. Miss Sheldon was delighted with the proposal. "I shall have no engagements in town for a couple of months," she said. "I should like a change; and I think I have a right to ascertain from Sir Alured Vivian what his intentions are." "I think so too," said Madame. month to month. Pretty Mary Ashow has reverted to her ancient habits; she makes tea for her father and John Grainger in the garden parlor at four o'clock; she as regularly as ever walks along the river margin with the farmer while he smokes his pipe; she now and then goes with John Grainger through the Avonside woods to the Cavern, and takes botanical lessons, which there is now no one to interrupt. The excitement has died away: Vivian and Earine are gone. The old times seem to have returned. Yet have they not wholly returned. That, indeed, is in this world impossible. You come back, after but a year's absence, to the very same friends, dwelling in the very same house-yet, alas! they are not the same, any more than the grass on their lawn or the rivulet that murmurs through their garden. "None twice has crossed the self-same stream; John Grainger and Mary Ashow have both been altered by contact with Earine. John especially has grown manlier, and his intellect has widened. To pass from the region of mathematics and chemistry to the realm of poetry is no trivial migration. When a young fellow with any modicum of brain has once been with ." Miranda on her island, and with Rosalind in the Forest of Arden, he is wholly transfigured and transformed. He had not known before what sort of a world he lived in. He might know from astronomy that it is round, and from chemistry that its shining streams are made of oxygen and hydrogen: and yet all the while he knew nothing. "But do you know," said Miss Sheldon, "I sometimes think Colonel Trafford is rather fond of me." "Do you?" said Madame, much amused. "Well, he is younger and handsomer than Sir Alured." 66 Younger, certainly-I don't call him handsomer. Sir Alured is a magnificent old fellow. And Colonel Trafford hasn't much money, I fancy." Since Earine gave advice gratis to her young friends, there had been less flirtation between them and closer friendship. Mary did not quite give up her merry teasing ways; but she saw "Ah, that's awkward. And you really think how great a mistake she had made in flirting the Colonel likes you?" with Vivian, and she began to perceive that John Grainger was a good deal better than he looked. "I have sometimes thought so. But a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. I shall try what can be done with Sir Alured." "You are quite right," said Madame. "Then you will go with me. I have to take one of my pupils with me, who can not go home for the vacation: she is a very quiet girl, about seventeen." "Ah, I dare say we can make her useful." The idea of Miss Sheldon's making the haughty Cecile useful rather amused Madame de Longueville. CHAPTER XXXII. A THUNDER-STORM AND A FUNERAL. "The golden haze of the calendula So there went on between them a sober sort of wooing, never very ardent, seldom enlivened by Mary's ancient fluctuations of temper. It was quite serious, however, quite in earnest : but John Grainger was not an imaginative man, and Mary Ashow had somehow lost a good deal of her skittishness. There are infinitely numerous ways of love-making. Farmer Ashow saw very well what was going on, and was not displeased; fond though he was of laughing at John Grainger's studious habits, he recognized the young fellow's sterling qualities, and saw that he would make Mary a good husband, and the farm a good master. Not that the tough old boy meant to die just yet; but he loved his farm almost as much as he loved his daughter, and wished to have them both in safe hands. Always upon that antique garden lay." SURELY that must be love's flower which Now it happened, one fine afternoon, that the blooms in every calend. Its golden hue per- two lovers pursued the same sylvan path that vaded the garden at Broadoak Mill Farm from | led toward the Cavern-the path along which |