e, with her loose hair
glistening in the sunshine--just as if she were posing herself for a
pre-Raphaelite picture--and no one took any heed of her goings and
comings.

She was supremely lonely. Even looking forward to the future--when she
would be of age and well off, and free to do what she liked with her
life--she could see no star of hope. Nobody wanted her. She stood quite
alone amidst a strange, unfriendly world.

"Except poor old McCroke, I don't think there is a creature who cares
for me; and even her love is tepid," she said to herself.

She had kept up a regular correspondence with her old governess, since
she had been in Jersey, and had developed to Miss McCroke the scheme of
her future travels. They were to see everything strange and rare and
beautiful, that was to be seen in the world.

"I wonder if you would much mind going to Africa?" she wrote, in one of
her frank girlish letters. "There must be something new in Africa. One
would get away from the beaten ways of Cockney tourists, and one would
escape the dreary monotony of a _table d'hote_. There is Egypt for us
to do; and you, who are a walking encyclopaedia, will be able to tell
me all about the Pyramids, and Pompey's Pillar, and the Nile. If we got
tired of Africa we might go to India. We shall be thoroughly
independent. I know you are a good sailor; you are not like poor mamma,
who used to suffer tortures in crossing the Channel."

There was a relief in writing such letters as these, foolish though
they might be. That idea of distant wanderings with Miss McCroke was
the one faint ray of hope offered by the future--not a star, assuredly,
but at least a farthing candle. The governess answered in her friendly
matter-of-fact way. She would like much to travel with her dearest
Violet. The life would be like heaven after her present drudgery in
finishing the Misses Pontifex, who were stupid and supercilious. But
Miss McCroke was doubtful about Africa. Such a journey would be a
fearful undertaking for two unprotected females. To have a peep at
Algiers and Tunis, and even to see Cairo and Alexandria, might be
practicable; but anything beyond that Miss McCroke thought wild and
adventurous. Had her dear Violet considered the climate, and the
possibility of being taken prisoners by black people, or even devoured
by lions? Miss McCroke begged her dear pupil to read Livingstone's
travels and the latest reports of the Royal Geographical Society,
before s