esent an
insult. The fine spirit that was in her fired her eyes, and fixed them
firmly on her aunt.

"Do you accuse me of deceit?" she asked.

"Let us call it false modesty," Mrs. Gallilee retorted.

Carmina rose without another word--and walked out of the room.

In the extremity of her surprise, Mrs. Gallilee appealed to Miss
Minerva. "Is she in a passion?"

"She didn't bang the door," the governess quietly remarked.

"I am not joking, Miss Minerva."

"I am not joking either, madam."

The tone of that answer implied an uncompromising assertion of equality.
You are not to suppose (it said) that a lady drops below your level,
because she receives a salary and teaches your children. Mrs. Gallilee
was so angry, by this time, that she forgot the importance of preventing
a conference between Miss Minerva and her niece. For once, she was the
creature of impulse--the overpowering impulse to dismiss her insolent
governess from her hospitable table.

"May I offer you another cup of tea?"

"Thank you--no more. May I return to my pupils?"

"By all means!"

Carmina had not been five minutes in her own room before she heard a
knock at the door. Had Mrs. Gallilee followed her? "Who is there?" she
asked. And a voice outside answered,

"Only Miss Minerva!"

CHAPTER XVI.

"I am afraid I have startled you?" said the governess, carefully closing
the door.

"I thought it was my aunt," Carmina answered, as simply as a child.

"Have you been crying?"

"I couldn't help it, Miss Minerva."

"Mrs. Gallilee spoke cruelly to you--I don't wonder at your feeling
angry."

Carmina gently shook her head. "I have been crying," she explained,
"because I am sorry and ashamed. How can I make it up with my aunt?
Shall I go back at once and beg her pardon? I think you are my friend,
Miss Minerva. Will you advise me?"

It was so prettily and innocently said that even the governess was
touched--for a moment. "Shall I prove to you that I am your friend?" she
proposed. "I advise you not to go back yet to your aunt--and I will tell
you why. Mrs. Gallilee bears malice; she is a thoroughly unforgiving
woman. And I should be the first to feel it, if she knew what I have
just said to you."

"Oh, Miss Minerva! you don't think that I would betray your confidence?"

"No, my dear, I don't. I felt attracted towards you, when we first met.
You didn't return the feeling--you (very naturally) disliked me. I am
ugly and ill-tempered: and,