said, it was mere ruin!

Merchant's office? Bah! such a gentleman as her Herbert was, so
connected! What was his uncle thinking of, taking him up to put him down
in that way? It was hard.

And Lord Northmoor was thankful to the tears that as usual choked her,
while he begged her at present to trust to that last chance. It would be
time to think what was to come next if that failed.

Wherewith the victim passed the window whistling merrily, apparently
perfectly regardless of his doom, be it what it might, and with Mite
clinging to his hand in ecstatic admiration.

Constance too was in question. Here she was at eighteen, a ladylike,
pleasant, good girl, very nice-looking, sweet-faced, and thoughtful,
having finished her course at the High School with great credit, but
alas! it was not in the family to win scholarships. She did things well,
but not so brilliantly as cleverer girls, having something of her uncle's
tardiness of power.

Her determination to be a governess was as decided as ever, and it was
first brought before her mother by an offer on Lady Adela's part to begin
with her at once for Amice, who was now eleven years old.

'Really, now!' said Mrs. Morton, stopping short to express her offence.

'That is--' added Ida, equally at a loss.

'But what do you mean, mamma?' said Constance. 'I always intended to be
a teacher; I think it noble, useful work.'

'Oh, my poor child! what have they brought you to? Pretending such
affection, too!'

'Indeed, mamma, I have meant this always. I could not be dependent all
my life, you know. Do listen, mamma; don't Ida--'

'That my Lady Adela should insult us that way, when you are as good as
she!'

'Nonsense, Ida! That has nothing to do with it. It is the greatest
possible compliment, and I am very much pleased.'

'Just to live there, at her beck and call, drudging at that child's
lessons!' sneered Ida.

'Yes, and when I made sure, at least after all the fuss they have made
with you, that your aunt would present you at Court, and make you the
young lady of the house, and marry you well, but there's no trust to be
placed in them--none!'

'Oh, mamma, don't cry. I should not feel it right, unless Aunt Mary
really needed me, and, though she is so kind and dear, she does not
really. My only doubt is--'

'You have a doubt, then?'

'Yes. I should be so much fitter if I could go to one of the ladies'
colleges, and then come back to dear little Amice,