for the position.' Everything I did was wrong--according
to her, I was rebellious, irreligious, too fond of dress, and lazy
physically and mentally. The fact was, I was simply a half-starved,
dowdy school-girl---often hungry for food and always hungry for love.
If I had had a dog to talk to I should have been happier. My mother died
when I was three years old, and my father two years later. Then, as I
told you, I went out as governess to the Warrens when I was nineteen,
and felt that I was a human being, for they were kind to me.
Colonel Warren, a rough, outspoken old soldier with a red face and
fierce-looking blue eyes under enormous white bushy eyebrows, was
very kind to me, and so was his wife. I was not treated as so many
governesses are treated in English families--as something between a
scullery-maid and a housekeeper, for whom anything is good enough to
eat, and any horrid, mean little room good enough to sleep in. When
she came to say good-night to the children after hearing them say their
prayers she would always ask me to come to her own room for an hour or
two. I was very happy there. I was only a little over a year with them
when I met and married Captain Marston." "Some day, Amy, you will
marry again," "I don't know, Marie," said Mrs. Marston frankly. "I was
thinking the other day that such a thing may be possible. I have no
knowledge of the world, and am not competent to manage my business
affairs. But there will be plenty of years to think of such a thing. I
want to watch my baby grow up--I want her girlhood to be as bright and
as full of love as mine was dull and loveless."

Presently a native boy came along the path carrying two letters. He
advanced, and handed one to Mrs. Marston, whose cheeks first paled,
and then flushed with anger as she took it, for she recognised the
handwriting.

"There is another letter for thy husband, lady," he said to Mrs.
Raymond, "which also cometh from the _papalagi_{*} Villari."

* Papalagi = foreigner.

Mrs. Raymond directed him where to find her husband, and then was about
to return to the house, but her friend, who had not yet opened the
letter in her hand, asked her to stay.

"Don't go, Marie. I shall not open this letter. It is too bad of Mr.
Villari to again write to me. Shall I send it back, or take no notice of
it?"

"I hardly know what to say, Amy. He is very rude to annoy you in this
way. Wait and hear what Tom thinks."

A quarter of an hour later