her exertions in his brother's
family. She would not be so silly as to imagine every man was being
transformed into a lover. "You are kinder to me than I deserve," she
said, then changed the conversation.

She expected to meet him as she took the train to return, but he was
nowhere to be seen. He did not even appear when the train stopped, and
she had a solitary drive to the house.

"Did you know that Dick had gone?" said Mrs. Pinckney at the
dinner-table, levelling scrutinizing glances from her lovely blue eyes.

"No," answered the governess with sudden depression and embarrassment:
"he said nothing about leaving this morning. You know Colonel Pinckney
went to New York in the train that I did."

"You didn't see him after your arrival?"

"No: he put me on a car and left me."

"I suspect it was an after-thought," said Mrs. Pinckney. "I had a
telegram, directing me to send on his travelling-bag by express: the
rest of his luggage was to be left until further orders.--Is it
possible that she has refused him?" thought Mrs. Pinckney behind her
fan. She was occupying her usual seat by the fire: Miss Featherstone
was in a low chair, with Harry on her lap, the other children hanging
about her. She was telling them a story, but they were not as well
entertained as usual. The young governess was unlike herself to-night,
and little touches, dramatic effects and gay inflections of the voice
were lacking.

A month passed, and nothing had been heard from Colonel Pinckney. "He
might have written just one line," said his sister-in-law querulously.
She was in her favorite position, propped up by pillows on the bed,
Miss Featherstone at her side waiting to receive orders, for gradually
all her old duties had been permitted to slip back into her willing
hands. "Certainly he seemed to enjoy himself when he was here; yet not
one line of thanks or remembrance have I received. I heard," she said
mysteriously, "that Dick was very devoted to Miss Livingstone at
Saratoga last summer--there's no end to the women who have been in love
with _him_: perhaps this sudden move has something to do with her.
Nothing but a great emergency can excuse him," petulantly.

That day, for the first time, the children wearied Miss Featherstone,
and she carried them in a body to Adele, saying that she had a violent
headache and was going out in the garden for a walk. As she paced
slowly up and down the tears fell over her pale cheeks. The only window
from