in the prospect of assisting her friend,
poor Bluebell, who often had to deny herself a mere bit of ribbon from
want of a shilling to pay for it. It might require a little management at
home, so she would not hint at it yet, and, with a warm caress and a gay
farewell nod, they separated.

Next morning, Mrs. Leigh, still engaged in the resuscitation of the
merino dress, was surprised by a visit from Mrs. Rolleston. That lady,
for a wonder, considering her errand, had come alone, for it was seldom
that any little domestic arrangement was entered on without the personal
supervision of the Colonel.

However, there was a counter-attraction at barracks this morning, and
having, so to speak, held a board on Cecil's proposition, and opposed,
argued, and thoroughly talked it over, Mrs. Rolleston was empowered to
suggest to Mrs. Leigh a plan for taking Bluebell into their family as
musical companion to Cecil and nursery governess to Freddy, the heir
apparent, aetat. four. The poor little lady did not seem much elated at
the proposal. "I know my child will wish it," she said. "I can give her
no variety, no indulgences, and she is of an age when occupation and
society are a necessity to her. I sometimes feel," she murmured, with
a sigh, "that I have stood in her light by not agreeing to her
grandfather's conditions."

A look of curiosity from Mrs. Rolleston elicited an explanation, and she
heard for the first time the whole history of Bluebell's antecedents.

"Why," cried she, much excited, "I remember that Sir Timothy before I
married; there are so many Leighs, it never struck me he might be your
father-in-law. I recollect hearing he had disinherited his son, but he
has adopted a grandnephew, which, I am afraid, looks bad for Bluebell."
And she listened with renewed interest to Mrs. Leigh's diffuse
reminiscences, while her _protege_ appeared to her in a new and romantic
light, and she pictured half-a-dozen possibilities for her future.

From a miniature of the graceless Theodore which Mrs. Leigh produced,
there could be no doubt of the resemblance to his daughter in air and
feature; the long sleepy eyes were identical, though the slightly
insolent expression of Theodore's was, happily, wanting.

"He was the best of husbands," whimpered the widow, on whose placid
mind the shortcomings of the dissipated youth seemed to have left no
impression; "but he was hardly treated in this world, and so he was taken
to a better."

Befor