es almost flashed.

"Two or three thousand!" she said, "dearie me, dearie me. When people
talk of fortunes, in Northbury, they _mean_ fortunes, Mrs. Bertram."

"And your daughter will inherit?" asked the hostess of her guest.

"There's full and plenty for me, Mrs. Bertram, and when Beatrice comes
of age, or when she marries with her mother's approval, she'll have
twenty thousand pounds. Twenty thousand invested in the funds, that's
her fortune, not bad for a shopkeeper's daughter, is it, Mrs. Bertram?"
Mrs. Bertram said that it was anything but bad, and she inwardly
reflected on the best means of absolutely suppressing the memory of the
shopkeeper, and how, by a little judicious training, she might induce
Mrs. Meadowsweet to speak of her late partner as belonging to the roll
of British merchants.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE WITCH WITH THE YELLOW HAIR.

A corner is a very pretty addition to a room, and a cleft-stick has been
known to present a more picturesque appearance than a straight one. But
to find oneself, metaphorically speaking, pushed into the corner or
wedged into the cleft of the stick is neither picturesque nor pleasant.

This was Mrs. Bertram's present position. She had suddenly, and at a
moment when she least expected it, been confronted with the ghost of
a long ago past. The ghost of a past, so remote that she had almost
forgotten it, had come back and stared her in the face. This ghost had
assumed terrible dimensions, and the poor woman was dreadfully afraid
of it.

She had taken a hurried journey to London in the vain hope of laying it.
Alas! it would not be laid. Most things, however, can be bought at a
price, and Mrs. Bertram had bought the silence of this troublesome ghost
of the past. She had bought it at a very heavy cost.

Her money was in the hands of trustees; she dared not go to them to
assist her, therefore, the only price she could pay was out of her
yearly income.

To quiet this troublesome ghost she agreed to part with four hundred
a year. A third of her means was, therefore, taken away with one fell
swoop. Loftus must still have his allowance, for Loftus of all people
must know nothing of his mother's anxieties. Mrs. Bertram and her girls
would, therefore, have barely five hundred a year to live on. Out of
this sum she would still struggle to save, but she knew she could save
but little. She knew that all chance of introducing Catherine and Mabel
into society was at an end. She