hed, but her laugh was
full of the nervous excitement from which she suffered.

'I shan't know what to say,' she exclaimed, tossing her head, 'so I hope
you will help me out of my difficulty, Alice.'

'I wish I could be left out of it altogether,' said the girl, who was
sitting with her back to the horses. 'It seems to me that I am being put
into a very false position!'

'Put into a false position!' said Mrs. Barton. 'I'll hear no more of
this! If you won't do as you are told, you had better go back to St.
Leonards--such wicked jealousy!'

'Oh, mamma!' said Alice, wounded to the quick, 'how can you be so
unjust?

And her eyes filled with tears, for since she had left school she had
experienced only a sense of retreating within herself, but so long as
she was allowed to live within herself she was satisfied. But this
refuge was no longer available. She must take part in the scuffle; and
she couldn't. But whither to go? There seemed to be no escape from the
world into which she had been thrust, and for no purpose but to suffer.
But the others didn't suffer. Why wasn't she like them?

'I am sorry, Alice dear, for having spoken so crossly; but I am sorely
tried. I really am more to be pitied than blamed; and if you knew all,
you would, I know, be the first to try to help me out of my
difficulties, instead of striving to increase them.' 'I would do
anything to help you,' exclaimed Alice, deceived by the accent of sorrow
with which Mrs. Barton knew how to invest her words.

'I am sure you would, if you knew how much depends--But dry your eyes,
my dear, for goodness' sake dry them. Here we are at the door. I only
want you to be with Olive when she tells Captain Hibbert that she
cannot--and, now mind, Olive, you tell him plainly that he must not
consider himself engaged to you.'

In the ceremonious drawing-room, patched with fragments of Indian
drapery, Lady Jane and Lady Sarah sat angularly and as far from their
guests as possible, for they suspected that their house was being made
use of as a battle-ground by Mrs. Barton, and were determined to resent
the impertinence as far as lay in their power. But Milord continued to
speak of indifferent things with urbanity and courtly gestures; and as
they descended the staircase, he explained the beauty of his marble
statues and his stuffed birds.

'But, Lady Jane, where is Cecilia? I hope she is not unwell?'

'Oh no; Cecilia is quite well, thank you. But she never comes do