about
it, when the business is done."

"It is quite unnecessary to hurry your departure, as you propose,"
continued Mr. Pendril, addressing Norah. "I can safely assure you that a
week hence will be time enough."

"If this is Mr. Michael Vanstone's house," repeated Norah; "I am ready
to leave it tomorrow."

She impatiently quitted her chair and seated herself further away on the
sofa. As she laid her hand on the back of it, her face changed. There,
at the head of the sofa, were the cushions which had supported her
mother when she lay down for the last time to repose. There, at the foot
of the sofa, was the clumsy, old-fashioned arm-chair, which had been her
father's favorite seat on rainy days, when she and her sister used to
amuse him at the piano opposite, by playing his favorite tunes. A heavy
sigh, which she tried vainly to repress, burst from her lips. "Oh," she
thought, "I had forgotten these old friends! How shall we part from them
when the time comes!"

"May I inquire, Miss Vanstone, whether you and your sister have formed
any definite plans for the future?" asked Mr. Pendril. "Have you thought
of any place of residence?"

"I may take it on myself, sir," said Miss Garth, "to answer your
question for them. When they leave this house, they leave it with me. My
home is their home, and my bread is their bread. Their parents honored
me, trusted me, and loved me. For twelve happy years they never let me
remember that I was their governess; they only let me know myself as
their companion and their friend. My memory of them is the memory of
unvarying gentleness and generosity; and my life shall pay the debt of
my gratitude to their orphan children."

Norah rose hastily from the sofa; Magdalen impetuously left the window.
For once, there was no contrast in the conduct of the sisters. For once,
the same impulse moved their hearts, the same earnest feeling inspired
their words. Miss Garth waited until the first outburst of emotion had
passed away; then rose, and, taking Norah and Magdalen each by the hand,
addressed herself to Mr. Pendril and Mr. Clare. She spoke with perfect
self-possession; strong in her artless unconsciousness of her own good
action.

"Even such a trifle as my own story," she said, "is of some importance
at such a moment as this. I wish you both, gentlemen, to understand that
I am not promising more to the daughters of your old friend than I
can perform. When I first came to this house, I entere