CHAPTER XLIII.—(Continued.) AT NARBOROUGH.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2191, 24 July 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XLlll.— (Continued.) AT NARBOROUGH.

Whem Amy received George's letter on tho following morning 1 at Narborough, her grief and consternation were at first painful in the extreme; her heart seemed to die within her as she read and re-read those parting words, and something of hi* real design also in leaving England without any further meeting between them boffan to dawn upon her miurl. Half an hour after the pose had come in, Mrs Manners entered her room and found her lyinjr pnle and tearless, still grrttsping George's letter in her hand j but at the sight of Mrs Mxnners' grave face, who also was holding an open letter, Amy suddpnly gave way. 'He might have come,' she sobbed, as Mrs Manners btnt over tho bed and kis9ed her ; ' he might hare come to say goodrbye.' •Hush, my dear, hush!' said Mis Manners, wiping her own blue fyes a" «he spoke ; ' don't you see he did it for the best ? You should think he did it for the best.' •To go without ono word?' cried poor Amy, piteously ; without a single word ! How different men are to us ; how differeutly they feel.' •They are stronger, dear, for one thing,' answered Mrs Manner*, consolingly ; 'and they've other things to employ them, that's the truth.' ' And we have only our thoughts — our bitter thoughts,' went on Amy, turning her head with restless misery on her pillow. 'Oh! Mrs Manners, why were born — why were we born ?' * • You have the school now,' said Mrs Manners, kiudly; 'and I'm sure it will please George if it succeeds.' ♦Poor George,' said Amy, tho next minute, with a strange change of feeling ; * poor, poor George !' She understood it all now — why he left ler this occupation— why he had gone •away. •He is better and stronger than I am,' she thought— 'but not happier;' and she found a kind of consolation in thn, and oven exerted herself sufficiently to go down in the afternoon and see after the school. But this was almost more than she could bear ; she had worked there for George's sake — for George to see, when he came home, how well they had got ou ; And there was no George coming now — perhaps she would never see George again ; and as this last thought struck her she rose hastily, and leaving her class gazing after her in astonishment, hurried out of the room. 'Sit down, children, sit down,' cried J^olly, who was instructing her own class wi th great gusto, on seeing this. * Miss Williams is not well ; she is a very weak Youivg woman,' she added, with emphasis, • very ;' anc l D°Uy thought so, and despised Miss Williams in her heart for being so. « It's some nonsense about George going to Russia, I suppose,' she said confidentially to Katie on their return home. * That's why she has been crying ; but I oannot understand it. If George won't Aave her, why can't she let him alone. I wonder she has not more pride.' But Katie, who had an incipient attteohment to the doctor's red-haired young cousin and apprentice, was more lenient. • Poor Amy,' she said, * 1 suppose she is very fond of him, and I really wish George would marry her. lam sure she it very nice and lady-like; and as for being a governess— well, it would never be known, except about here.' But after the first few days were over —after, in fact, George was fairly gono —Amy gave the girls very little cause for comment on her conduct. » It will but be for a year or two, she had reflected ; ' a few sad, lonely years at moat, and then it will end. He said I should never have cause to be ashamed of »h*nag loved him, and should I not also irv to do some little good— be of somo ' little use, when I know it would please Jiimif Icould?' Thia thought, aad perhaps another one

—one scarcely even admitted to herself, yet which lingered fondly in her heart, induced her to struggle with her grief — 1 Some day you may be free,' .Sir Hugh had more than once said, and this id^a of his had again aud again reeuired to her mind. At all events she resolved to do what she could, and in a short timo insisted on resuming her duties as governed to the children, though Mis Mmners repeatedly told her that GorgeG 'orge had .said Hhe was not to do so, and that »he was to be regarded as a daughter in the house. ' Very well,' replied Amy, smiling, in answer to one of these romonstr-inces on the part of her hostess, *I will be an older daughter, and it is a very good occupation for me to teach my younur sisters ;' so their regular lessons and school hours were again commenced, end in a little while hhe felt better and stronger for the exertion. Thus weeks stole away intensely. Thero was no excitement at Narbrough now ; no brother or lover coming at the end of each week, to bring either pleasure or pain. 'It was dull,' Dully *aid. *It wa9 very quiet, Amy thought, and felt thankful for that rest and peace ; striving with a sort of strength reflected from the friend who had left her to do her duty, and in some way to repay Mrs Manners for her unceasing kindness and affection. By-and-bye also came letters from George — letters full of his journey past vast pine forests, ovor rivers in rafts, in jolting carriages, and finally of the great northern city, which was his destination, and which he endeavoured to describe for thbir amusement and instruction. But these letters disappointed Amy, somehow. They we in general graphic and interesting, but there was little sentiment in them. They were written as it wore for the family persual, and contained no tender allusions, no yearnings for the past, which perhaps she naturally expected; and very bitter tears were shed sometimes over these calm and commonplace productions. • But men must work and women must weep,' though it must be oonfessed that the workers have the best of it in this sublunary existence. These moods, however, did not generally last long. 4 How can I be so foolish and wicked ?' she would cay, drying her secret tears ; and then with an effort she would begin again what she now regarded as her daily duties. The school in the village was moderately successful. The youny; mistress was a certificated teacher, and an industrious and intelligent girl, and did her best for the totally uneducated children over whom she wis pl-xoed. But it was uphill work, for her pupils continually absented themselves, and had to bo sought out from their miserable homes by Amy and the <i\rU. ' Mammy's ill, I could n:v come,' was the UHual and too of ton real excuse ; fever, dysonteiy aud distress were constantly atnong them, and the uncovered sowers and drains ever at their work. All this made occupation for Amy. She could not see the weak mother and newborn babe pining for want and not try to relieve them ; and could not hear the cry for help and turn away her head ; so patient after patient was added to her list, and scarcely a day parsed without her starting with her travelling bag filled with Decenaries or luxuries for the sick women and men, those little histories of misery she now knew so well. Sometimes the Vicar would accompany her, and was ever ready to season his discourse and- her charity with a little worldly prudence and discretion. 4 It's the old tale, of couv-e, my dear — the old tale,' he said oue day, on Amy relating to him some scene of suffering, 4 In times of plenty and health, extravagance ; in timo of sickness beggerv. You should not re-ally encourage them to depend on you thus.' 'Both George and Sir Hugh wished me to help them, and I try to do the best that I can with their money,' answered Amy. 4 You are a very charming young lady,' said the Vicar, • and I wish I wpre rich, like George and Sir Hugh, to make you my almoner; but you see — you vsee, a poor parson like me can barely live. But what a vile smell of stale fish there is to day ! Come my dear Miss Williams, surely you have done enough, and it's getting on to dinner-time. The labourer, you known, is worthy of his hire — und we have ducks ' * Oh ! Mr Manners.' 4 That preUy, shocked look is very becoming I,'1 ,' said the Vicar, in a complimentary tone, ' but dou't let us have them over roasted, for it totally spoils them ;' and Amy, who could not help laughing at the truth of this argument, went home at once at his bidding". He was very polite in his manner to her now ; he treated her with a parental and affectionate sort of admiration, which was highly amusing. 'She .is a charming young woman,' he was always saying ; and when Adelaide Manners, on hearing she had returned to Narbrough, addressed a letter of the most violent remonstrance on the subject of her father, he answered ber so curtly that she dare not even reply. 4 If you do not choose to return homo while this young lady is under uiy roof,' wrote the Vicar, 'you can, of course,, when you have quite wearied out your friends by the unreasonable lengths of your visits, then seek a situation ns governess, which she was by misfortune obliged to do ; nnd I only hope yoo. will fill it with the same grace and discretion that Mi^s Williams did. And I ought to tell you, 1 he added, " that the inference you drew from your cousin Hugh's acquaintance with her was totally incorrect, his intimacy with her being founded on a previous knowledge of ber family, while moving in a different position to the one ho was obliged to assume, and which she had requested him to keep a secret ; not from any improper friendship or acquaintance, as you suppose.' 'She turns them all round her little finger, you see,' said Adelaide, bitterly, after bhe had read this letter to Lady Lilbourne, with whom bhe was then staying ; ' all — this stranger, aud none of them will listen to me.' 'My dear Adelaide,' answered her friend, ' tho Vicar is a sensible man, and would not have written this to you unless he had good reasons for his words. He is probably really acquainted with the early history of this youny: hidy.' Lady Lilbourne was right. Mr Manners, by dint of direct and indirect questions to the wife, of his bosom, had at last extracted the secret from her. 1 And it's but right he should know it too,' said that good woman, consoling herself with some uneasiness in her mind for having been so weak as one night tohave laid her hand on Ins broad shoulder and tell him all. ' He's my husband and George's father, so who would know it but him ? and maybe he'll be kinder to her now.' Here Mrs Manners showed her discretion. It was indeed shortly after this that the Vicar took to calling his governess 'a charming young woman,' and snubbed his daughter when she wiote to him about her. He had various small reasons for this change. In the first place she could not marry George, if she were married already. In the second, the wife of an officer and a gentleman, runaway wife though she might he, was in his estimation a different and more interesting person than a poor woman who was merely earning her own bread from Borne commonplace misfortune, such as the loss of '-*''■" ' "it t

friends, home, &c. Thirdly, all pretty . women were highly agreeable to him to look upon ; and, fourthly, the fifty pounds a year which George had offered to pay for her board was highly agreeable to him to accept. So Mr Manners was very kind to her, and did his West in fact to make her position at the Vicarage pleasant to her, and told his wife when the letter came from his daughter, ' that he was sick of Adelaide and her confounded airs, which all came to nothing'— meaning that she was still Miss Manners, and had disappointed the Vicar in not having before this established herself in life. George Manners had not seen his sister before he left England, but shortly after, his arrival at St. Petersburg he wrote to her, and his letter removed the chief reason for her anger against Miss Williams, for in it he explained the error they had both fallen into as regards her acquaintance with Sir Hugh ; assuring her that there never was, and never would be, anything betweeu them beyond the merest friendship. ThU letter came to Adelaide a week or so after sh»* had recoived her father's reply to her indignant request that he should order Miss Williams to leave the house or she would never enter it again, and it naturally changed her opinion consideraby ou the subject. Already also she was beginning to see the rashness of giving up the shelter of her father's house, and to feel that Lady Lilbourne thought she had been long enough her guest, as that lady was continually enlarging on the folly of quarrelling with the Vicar, and pointing out to her that she would gain nothing by such conduct. Under these circumstances, therefore, Adelaide thought it wise to change her tactics. She concluded from George's letter that he still had a strong interest in Miss Williams, and not unnaturally supposed it would end in him marryiug her. • And what matter,' she thought ; *,he is sure to do something mad.' Anything in fact to her mind was better than that Miss Williams should interfere between herself and her cousin ; for in spite of his prolonged absence, in spite of their yet unreconciled quarrel, in spite of the reports which now linked his name with the beautiful fisher girl, Peggy Richardson, Adelaide was yet determined to marry him. 1 He will grow tired of all these things,' she always thought, and so she persevered in her object ; and hearing from her host, Sir Thomas Lilbourne, that Sir Hugh was likely to return to the hall shortly, she made up her mind to be reconciled to her father, and accordingly the Vicar one morning received a letter, which he handed to his wife with a smile. •lam very glad,' said Mrs Manners, after she had road it ; but the change of countenance which few can prevent on anything annoying suddenly occurring, spread over her fa 00 as she spoke, for iv it Adelaide Manners had askod perimssiou to return home ; admitting at the an me time that she was wrong, and apologising for her rudeness to Miss Williams. 4 1 have heard from George, my dear father,' she wrote, 4 aud he tells me I have been entirely mistaken. If so, no one is more ready than I am to regret anything winch I may have done to hurt the feelings of the young lady, and I beg you will tell her so, aiu&add also I trust that we shall (if you forgive my ill temper) be better friends when I come home than we ever have been, &c,, &c.' 4 Nothing like keeping Adelaide down,' said the Vicar, reading this again for the second time, and chuckling over the effect of his own last epistle. ' She's one of those women who always try for the upper hand ; but she won't get it with me, and that she shall learn.' Mr Manners wrote to his daughter the same day he received her letter, and informed her she was perfectly welcome to return home, and to remain there as long as gho was prepared to treat every one under his roof with the respect and kindness clue to her father's wife and his guests ; and Adelaide bit her proud lips as she read this, feeling that she had lost ground W'th her father which she would probably find very difficult to regain. Amy's heart sank within her when the news of Miss Manners' expected return was communicated to her. 4 Adelaide's coming home on Tuesday —isn't it disgusting?' said the plainspoken Dolly, rushing up on the following Sunday morning after church to the schoolroom with her unwelcome intelligence, where Miss Williams was sitting writing to George. 4 There'll be an end of everything now,' added the little girl, ' for we know what die is ;' and her governess inwardly concurred with her opinion. 'I'm so vexed, 1 went on Dolly; 4 .and just when Hugh's coming back, too, and I thought we should have some fun But of course now, with that jealous spy ' Hush, Dolly; don't say that, 1 said Miss Williams. 'Isn't she? You know she made mischief with everyone the last tune she was here — and I just hate her, that's the truth ; and Dolly looked ready to cry with vexation. When the inevitable Tuesday came, however, they were all agreeably disappointed. Adelaide indeed arrived in the afternoon, but arrived all smiles and amiability, and seemed eager to con- j ciliate every Jone she came near. 'My dear,' said Mrs Manners, hesitatingly, to her, after having followed her to her bedroom, under the excuse of seeing that everything was arranged there for her comfort ; my dear, you know Miss Williams is staying here now, and is treated like one of the family !' 'I knew she was there,' answered Adelaide, her brow colouring for a moment, ' but I do not know ' * Your father and brother both wish it,' went on Mrs Manners; so she dines at the late dinner, and that kind of thing.' 4 Indeed ?' said Adelaide ; and then she i added, sharply, 'is George engaged to her, Mrs Manners?' 'No— I dont know — I — but I thought I would just slip up and tell you,' replied Mrs Manners, much confused. 4 And, dear, don't vex your father about her any more — she's quite a lady j and 4 Oh, of course,' said Adelaide, turning away her head, and trying to swallow the bitter pill as best she could. 'Of course, it's all right — I shall not interfere,' and Mrs Manners, after admiring her dress, and telling her she was looking very well, went downstairs again, and was just crossing the narrow hall when the Vicar opened the front door with the latch-key, and came in, followed by a gentleman she had never seen. 'Hum,' said Mr Manners, with a kind of grunt, on seeing his wife's comely form, j 'hum, Nelly. My dear, allow me to introduce to you a gentleman you have probably often heard of— George's partner, Mr Hind march.' Oh ! said Mrs Manners,' stopping ; and and then holding out her kindly hand, she added, ' have you heard from him, sir ? I hope he's well ?' ' I heard — let me see,' replied Mr Ilindmarch, rather excitedly, plunging his thin hand first sharply into the other — 'I heard on the 10th — yes on the 1 19th inst. He is very well — nia'm, he is well. Have I the pleasure of addressing Mrs Manners ?' ' Yes,' replied that lady, meekly, opening the study door, and moving for their visitor to enter. ' What will Mr Hindmarch take, dear V she added, addressing the Vicar. ' ♦ Can you give us some dinner by-ancU

by ?' auswered the Vioar, looking at his watch. 'And Mr Hindmarch will, I hope, stay and get some ; and have a glass of sherry now ?' • You are very kind, I am sure, Mrs Manners, and Mr Manners also,' said Mr Hiudmarch, much gratified by his reception. Mr George, of course, and I are very well acquainted j but I have not had the pleasure of— of meeting you before ; but I came down last night to $he Ship Inn at West Narbrough, Mm Manners, just for a breath of fresh air ; yes, just a breath after the town's smoke, and a day's tishing ; and I said— yes* I said to myself I couldn't be so near without paying my respects — and so I borrowed a horse and rode up, and met Mr Manners at the door.' 4We are very happy to see you, I'm sure'; very happy,' said Mrs Manners, with a simple hospitality ; and we are doing to have dinner half-an-hour earlier ou accpunt of Adelaide — on account of Miss Manners,' she added, correcting herself; for I thought it .would da her good after her journey ; and I hope you'll stay and have some, Mr Hindmarch 1' " You are very good, mam, I'm sure,' said Mr Hindmarch, rubbing his face and some of his|wiry little curls violently; ' very good ; and I'll be very glad. I've a great respect for Mr George, and I shall be very happy— l 'and Mr Hindmarch became inaudible. •Miss, Williams should take Mr Hindmarch down to th,e village, and let him see George's school in the meantime,' said tho Vicar, who was anxious to get quit of the trouble of entertaining him. ' Let me see, it's four now }' and he once more drew out his watch. ' I suppose, Nelly, you won t be dining till sU ?' ' I thought 5 30 to-day dear ; but just as you like.' ' Oh, six— six is time enough. And you would like to see the school, would you not, Mr Hindmarch, which my son and cousin Sir Hugh entirely support between them ? It is a free school,' continued the vicar, assuming a clerical air for the benefit of Mr Hindmarch, • for the poor fisher children in the village.' ' Very generous of them, I'm sure,' answered Mr Hindmarch, rather grudging the money as far as George went through. • Yes, and you would like to see it, wouldn't you Y ' O ye.«, of course, very interesting, I daresay.' • Have a glass of sherry, fir-t, then,' said the Vicar ; ' and thon, Nelly, see if Miss Williams and the girls are going down, for I am sure Mr Hindmarch would like to go with them. Miss Williams,' he continued, turning to his guest. 'is a young lady who is staying 1 with us at present — a very oharmiug young lady, who in kind enough to take great interest in the.se poor children ; and whe and ray little girls yo nearly every afternoon to assist the mistress in her duties, and 1 am sure you would like to see George's small effort at well-doing.' ' Oh, certainly,' answered Mr Hindmarch, and he again first ran his handkerchief find then his hand over the wiry little curls ; 'oh, certainly.' He felt, indeed, rather nervou* ; ' but he was in for it among the swells," as he himself mentally expressed his .situation, and the glass of sherry gave him courage. Mrs Manners found Amy and the three children upstair*, just about to start for their übuhl afternoon wulk, and Amy readily agreed to take ' George's partner ' with them and .show him the school and the sea- coast ; and the whole four entered the study a few minutes afterwards, and were in duo form introduced to Mr Luke Hindmarch. Mrs Manners tells me you would like to see Mr George Mpnners's little school' said Amy, addressing- him as soon as the ceremony was over, and as ho was standing 1 very hot and uncomfortable, scarcely conscious which was Miss Williams aud which were the Mi«ses Manners ; * I shall be vory glad if you will walk down there with us now. 1 « You are very good, I am sure — Miss — ah — Miss Williams ; s*id Luke, nervously : ' I shall be very proud, vory proud. ' • Oh, there is very little to see, very little. It has just be~n established, and it is free, as perhaps you are aware, M George Manners,' she added, with som embarassment, ( got it up* and I hope it will do some good.' • Oh, no douht ; no doubt. I am quite ready, ladies, if you are. You will be going with us, sir, won't you ?' said Mr Hiudmarch, looking 1 at the Vioar. Mr Manners, however, excused himself. • This is ray busy afternoon about I parish matters,' he said, as he accoraI panied them as far as the garden gate, ' or [ should have greatly enjoyed the walk with you all. But I give you a good substitute, Mr Hindmarch,' he added, smiling and bowing to Amy ; ' a very fair substitute.' 1 Ha ! ha ! ha ! * laughed Luke, ' very good — very good ;' and then as he and the young ladies walked on together he said, ' tko Vicar is really very facetious.' • Oh, yes,' replied Amy, 'he is very fond of a joke.' « Mr George isn't, is he ?' said Mr Hindmarch, becoming almost at his ease. ' I don't consider he takes a joke very well. Sometimes, now, sometimes in tho office, you know, where we naturally are a little free with each other, I've ohaffed him a bit.' 1 And did he not likejit ?' inquired Miss Williams. «Not much. You know there is a splendid woman, a Mies Clayton, he was rather sweet on at one time ; well I'vo had my jolt 9 in that quarter, but ho didn't take it well. However, she's going to be married now, so that's all up.' •Is ahe not married yet ? I thought ' and Amy paused ; and then added 4 1 thought it had to be befor6 this.' • Do you know her ?' said Mr Hindmarch, glancing sharply at his companion. « I — I have seen her,' answered Amy, turning away her head. ' Oh, oh, well, there's been a stoppage, ha ! ha ! ha ! The youthful bridegroom couldn'd stand nil his happiness, I suppose, and has had a fib or something- of that sort. The Mounseys kept it very quiet, but it was a stroke, I believe ; and the wedding, just a week before the time, was forced to be put off. It was a great sell for Miss Clayton, I should think, as he's enormously rich, and that's what you young ladies think most of now, isn't it?' ' Indeed !' 1 Oh, well, I mean some, you know — now you must admit some do, Miss Willinms ? Look, for instance, at Miss Clayton — a splendid woman— one of the finest women in fact I ever saw, yet, you see she's ready to jump at an old man like Mr Peel. It would be a frightful sell, wouldn't it, if he was to die before she got him at all ' ' Perhaps he will leave her his money.' 4 Well, ho coulda't take it away with him, so he might as well, ha ! ha! ha ! I met him at tho Mounseys continued Mr Hindmarch, with an air of suppressed pride ; ' a short time back — just before his illness, in fact. He's a nice old gentleman, very — and wealthy, vory wealthy. She'll be a splendid catoh when she's his widow, if ever she is, ha ! ha I ha! We mush put up our friend Mr George to go in for her then; tor he won't be staying long in Russia, I say. I opposed that scheme, Miss Williams, from tho first, but you know M" George well, I presume ;' and here Mr Hindmaroh glanced round at Amy's iao);i ao ) ; ' you kno v ho'a what— well, we'll call it vary ftrra,

ha ! ha! ha! But it was a foolish scheme, I think— a foolish soheme.' 'I do not know. 1 ' Oh, you iee he talked about increasing our connexions abroad and all that, and it's true in one sense certainly, for' he has a good address. But then we were doing very well as it was, and of course it leaves all the anxiety and wbrk here on my hands now as it were. Not that I grnmble at that, Miss William*, j A fellow must work to get on now-* ■ days— work hard, there^ ho mistake < about that, and I don't grumble at that. But we'll have George Manners back by-and-bye, or I'm much surprised. He'll tire of St. Petersburg— it's a stupid place, unless you're amontj the swells ; and to ' be among the swells costs a mint of money — more than Mr George will be in« clined to spend.' ' I hope ho will come home sometimes. 4Oh yes, sure. Is the old lady 'I' saw her mother f'-eonttatfea 1 Mr' Hind march, who w*s walkitfg oh before Wltfi her two sisters.' '. « Yen.' 1 She's young to be the mother of such a fine, tall girl, isn't she ? Mr George's mother was the baronet's wife's sister, wasn't she ? I know the young baronet j — he's a dashing kind of fellow, I should say. He's not down at his place just now, I hear. I thought I would have looked him up if he had been. He's often been in our office.' ' He is coming down soon, I believe.' 1 Indeed I but I'll be gone before, I'm afraid. I can't spend more than a couple' of days in pleasQre, Miss Williams, at a time ; but I think,' added Mr Hindmarch, complaisantly, 'this won't be my last visit to Narborough. I like the place, what I have seen of it, uncommonly.' ♦ I am very glad.' ' The Vicar's a fine old gentleman — the real gentleman, I should say—and she's what I call a canny body, the old lady. But it was a funny marriage, wasn't it ? for of course 1 you know what she was. A gentleman of real old family like Mr Manners — very funny—— 1 , * She's a very good woman. Mr Hindmarch.' 'I've no doubt; I've no doubt; but still now, Miss Williams, don't you see, he went on, confidentially, ' a man ought to better himself as it were a bit, I think, by his marriage— ought to rise in the social world, I say. He's beginning a different life, yon know — taking his place, and all that kind of thing ; and then he should think of his children. ' ' Yon have very unsentimental notions about marriage Mr Hindmarch, I think,' answered Amy, with w laugh. • I dou't see that, Miss Williams,' replied Mr Hindmarch, rather nettled. ' I dou't set. up to be a sentiments!, sighing fellow ; writing poetry and all that sort. That's not in my line. I'm too busy n man for that kind of noinen^e — but for all that I iniirht hav<3 my spritiments as well as ituother,' and he looked at Miss Williams, no :h to imply that perhaps she could awaken them. " Well, all iv good time, Mr Hindmarch.' , * Ye*, nil in good time,' slid Mr Hind* march, very complaisnntly. 'We won't nny what might bo. Perhaps you may alter your opinion of m« not beinjf n sentimental fellow after all.' 'This is the village,' said Amy, rather abruptly, pointing to it with her parasol.' ' Oh, iudeed— it seems but a poor place ; just the fisher folk, I suppose ?' 1 Ye* ; there is no one else in it I think, except one family, who keep a little shop.' llt is not salubrious, ' said Mr Hindmarch, presently, (muffing the sea breeze, whioh now came to them laden with the smell of stale fish and other impurities. ' No, it is a miserable place ; full of poverty, and too often of disease.' •Of disease! What kind of disease? I hope, Miss Williams, no mistaken notions of charity lead you into places where there's fever and that kind of thing ?* 1 Sometimes,' • I think it wronif,' answered Mr Hindmarch, energetically, • very wrong for young ladies like you— delicate, n fined young ladies, to go in among such fights — and smells,' he added, with another sniff at the breeze, ' an there are here.' 4 Perhaps you would not like to go to the schoolroom, then, Mr Hindmarch ?' said Amy, pausing. 'Oh, I'll look in'; I'll look in. I was thinking of you and the other ladies, of course,' he went on, almost affectionately. ' It's very good, you know ; very Chris, tian, and that sort of thing i; but it don't pay, Miss Williams. Just think now if you were to catch a fever.' ' Well, we must all die sometime.' ' Don't talk of such a thin?, pray don't. Oh, this in the school ; oh, very nice — very nice, indeed. Mr George deserves great credit, certainly — great credit ; but for all that, Miss Williams, I think you should not come into such a place ; and if you don't mind, we won't stay in it now.'