rls) to the fatigues of travelling.

'I have had a charming letter from the bride, this morning, dated
Cologne. You cannot think how artlessly and prettily she assures me of
her happiness. Some people, as they say in Ireland, are born to good
luck--and I think Arthur Barville is one of them.

'When you next write, I hope to hear that you are in better health and
spirits, and that you continue to like your employment. Believe me,
sincerely your friend,--A. L.'

Agnes had just closed and directed her letter, when the eldest of her
three pupils entered the room with the startling announcement that Lord
Montbarry's travelling-servant had arrived from Paris! Alarmed by the
idea that some misfortune had happened, she ran out to meet the man in
the hall. Her face told him how seriously he had frightened her,
before she could speak. 'There's nothing wrong, Miss,' he hastened to
say. 'My lord and my lady are enjoying themselves at Paris. They only
want you and the young ladies to be with them.' Saying these amazing
words, he handed to Agnes a letter from Lady Montbarry.

'Dearest Agnes,' (she read), 'I am so charmed with the delightful
change in my life--it is six years, remember, since I last travelled on
the Continent--that I have exerted all my fascinations to persuade Lord
Montbarry to go on to Venice. And, what is more to the purpose, I have
actually succeeded! He has just gone to his room to write the
necessary letters of excuse in time for the post to England. May you
have as good a husband, my dear, when your time comes! In the mean
while, the one thing wanting now to make my happiness complete, is to
have you and the darling children with us. Montbarry is just as
miserable without them as I am--though he doesn't confess it so freely.
You will have no difficulties to trouble you. Louis will deliver these
hurried lines, and will take care of you on the journey to Paris. Kiss
the children for me a thousand times--and never mind their education
for the present! Pack up instantly, my dear, and I will be fonder of
you than ever. Your affectionate friend, Adela Montbarry.'

Agnes folded up the letter; and, feeling the need of composing herself,
took refuge for a few minutes in her own room.

Her first natural sensations of surprise and excitement at the prospect
of going to Venice were succeeded by impressions of a less agreeable
kind. With the recovery of her customary composure came the unwelcome
remembrance of the par