It was an interest new to Linley, in his experience of himself. There was
nothing to appeal to his admiration (by way of his senses) in the pale,
worn young creature who stood near the door, resigned beforehand to
whatever reception she might meet with. The poor teacher made him think
of his happy young wife at home--of his pretty little girl, the spoiled
child of the household. He looked at Sydney Westerfield with a heartfelt
compassion which did honor to them both.

"What do you mean by coming here?" Miss Wigger inquired.

She answered gently, but not timidly. The tone in which the mistress had
spoken had evidently not shaken her resolution, so far.

"I wish to know," she said, "if this gentleman desires to see me on the
subject of my advertisement?"

"Your advertisement?" Miss Wigger repeated. "Miss Westerfield! how dare
you beg for employment in a newspaper, without asking my leave?"

"I only waited to tell you what I had done, till I knew whether my
advertisement would be answered or not."

She spoke as calmly as before, still submitting to the insolent
authority of the schoolmistress with a steady fortitude very remarkable
in any girl--and especially in a girl whose face revealed a sensitive
nature. Linley approached her, and said his few kind words before Miss
Wigger could assert herself for the third time.

"I am afraid I have taken a liberty in answering you personally, when I
ought to have answered by letter. My only excuse is that I have no time
to arrange for an interview, in London, by correspondence. I live in
Scotland, and I am obliged to return by the mail to-night."

He paused. She was looking at him. Did she understand him?

She understood him only too well. For the first time, poor soul, in the
miserable years of her school life, she saw eyes that rested on her
with the sympathy that is too truly felt to be uttered in words. The
admirable resignation which had learned its first hard lesson under
her mother's neglect--which had endured, in after-years, the daily
persecution that heartless companionship so well knows how to
inflict--failed to sustain her, when one kind look from a stranger
poured its balm into the girl's sore heart. Her head sank; her wasted
figure trembled; a few tears dropped slowly on the bosom of her shabby
dress. She tried, desperately tried, to control herself. "I beg your
pardon, sir," was all she could say; "I am not very well."

Miss Wigger tapped her on the shoulde