r to think of a cloud of any sort
coming over it, even for a very short while."

"The only cloud we have to fear is that big fellow yonder over Gorton
point," he laughed.

"Better bring your mackintosh down. I shall not shoot to-day until I
have seen some color in your cheeks."

CHAPTER XIX

THE NEW GOVERNESS

None of the little household at Mallory Grange, Lord St. Maurice's
Norfolk seat, ever forgot Margharita's first appearance among them. She
came late in the afternoon, and was shown into Lady St. Maurice's own
little sitting room, without the ceremony of an announcement. Lady St.
Maurice had many kind words ready to say, but the sight of the figure
who crossed the threshold, and came out of the dusk toward the center of
the room, struck her dumb. She stood up for a moment perfectly silent,
with her hand pressed to her side. Such a likeness was marvelous. In
this girl's proud, dark face she could recall Leonardo's features one by
one. The air seemed suddenly full of voices, sobbing and cursing and
threatening. Then she came to herself, and held out her hand--forced her
lips even to wear a kindly welcoming smile.

"I am so glad to have you here, Margharita," she said. "Do you know that
your likeness to your mother--and her family--has startled me. It is
wonderful."

"It is very nice to hear you say so," the girl answered, taking the
chair which, at Lady St. Maurice's motion, a servant had wheeled up to
the fire. "I like to think of myself as belonging altogether to my
mother and her people. I have been very unhappy with my father's
relations."

"I am only sorry that you remained with them so long," Lady St. Maurice
said. "Let me give you some tea, and then you must tell me why you never
wrote to me before."

"Because I made up my mind to bear it as long as I was able," she
answered. "I have done so. It was impossible for me to remain there any
longer, and I determined to take my life into my own hands, and, if
necessary, find a situation. I wrote first to you, and you have been
kind enough to engage me."

To Lady St. Maurice, who was a woman of genial manners and kindly
disposition, there seemed to be a curious hardness in the girl's tone
and mode of expressing herself. She had avoided the kiss with which she
had been prepared to greet her, and had shaken hands in the most
matter-of-fact way. This last phrase, too, was a little ungracious.

"Engage you! I hope you are not going to look upon our