ear Beatrice," said Mrs Canninge. "George
is naturally very chivalrous, and he seems to have taken it into his
head that this girl needs his help and protection."

"But it is so cruel to me," sighed Beatrice. "If you could let him
think it caused me pain, he might not act so again."

"My dear child," replied Mrs Canninge, "you do not know my son so well
as I. Poor boy, he is very headstrong, and fond of asserting himself.
Depend upon it if I were to attempt to lead him towards you, the
consequences would be disastrous. We should be setting him from sheer
obstinacy towards this girl, who by-the-way appears to me to be either
very innocent and weak, or else crafty and clever to a degree."

"But surely you cannot think she dare aspire to a thought of your son
wishing to be attentive to her."

"Oh no, my dear child. That would be impossible. But there, do not
trouble yourself about it. You will see that George has forgotten all
about her in a few weeks."

Beatrice promised that she would not trouble, but went on growing more
exercised in spirit day by day. She took herself to task also about
several little acts of pettiness in which she had detected herself, and
made a vow that she would not be so contemptible again, but preserve
towards Hazel Thorne a ladylike dignity of manner that would be more in
keeping with her position as sister of the vicar of Plumton All Saints.

Human nature is, however, very weak, and the nature of Beatrice Lambent
was a little weaker. She had always her sister Rebecca at her elbow--a
lady who was rapidly becoming the incarnation of old-maidish pettiness
and narrow-minded local policies--and strive how she would, Rebecca's
constant droppings kept wearing a nature which, though desirous of being
firm, was not hardened like unto stone.

The sisters attended the schools with their old readiness and every now
and then, as if something within prompted her to be constantly watching
for a chance of attack, Beatrice found herself making unpleasant remarks
to or of Hazel Thorne and then going home angry and bitter, as she
realised how ladylike and quiet the schoolmistress remained under every
attack.

For, calling up the whole strength of her character, Hazel had
determined to persevere. She had several times been so cruelly
mortified by the treatment of the sisters that she felt that she must
go; but this was her first school, and she knew that she was bound to
stay there a sufficient