arcely the same place to Isabel when Emily was gone. She
toiled on diligently with the children, but she found teaching anything
but pleasant. Often after a tedious day, when tired and weary, she would
gladly have laid down to rest her aching head and throbbing temples.
Mrs. Arlington would request that she would join them in the
drawing-room. Isabel did not consider herself at liberty to refuse,
besides she did not wish to encounter Mrs. Arlington's frowns next day;
and even when they were out, and she congratulated herself upon being
left in peace, Mr. Arlington (who seldom accompanied hem) would ask her
to sing some songs, or play a game of chess, and of course she had to
comply. This kind of life was very irksome to Isabel--so different to
what she had been accustomed to. She strove bravely with her fate, but
in spite of all her endeavors she often cried herself to sleep she felt
so desolate and alone. She had no home: there was no hearth where she
was missed, or her coming anxiously looked for. Then she would grieve
bitterly over the bright home she had lost, and the happy days gone, it
seemed, for ever; and then in the morning be angry with herself for her
ingratitude, remembering the blessings she still enjoyed, and how much
worse off she might be, and strive to be contented. A fresh cause for
disquietude arose, Grace evidently was jealous of her. Grace was
handsome, but she was aware that Isabel was more attractive. Grace sang
well, but she also knew that Isabel sang better, her voice was richer,
fuller, more melodious. She said that Isabel always wanted to show off,
and would look very incredulous and neutral when Isabel's performances
were praised. One gentleman in particular was very enthusiastic in his
praises. "But professional people are different you know," returned
Grace.

"Oh indeed, I was not aware that Miss Leicester was a professional
singer," he replied.

"Not a professional singer, she teaches singing," said Grace thinking
she was going a little too far.

"Indeed, where did you make her acquaintance, may I ask, you seldom hear
such a splendid voice."

"Oh she is our governess," replied Grace.

Turning to Isabel he said "you have a very fine voice Miss Leicester, if
you were to make your debut at one of our best operas, you would make
your fortune."

"I have no such idea," said Isabel, the indignant tears starting to her
eyes, "that is the last thing I should thing of doing, she added with a