with frank, open eyes,--"May I
go to Barton and post a letter to my husband?"

A very warm assent drew forth the heartfelt exclamation,--"How I wish I
could tell you all, my dear Mrs. Markham."

Without that information, it was not so easy to answer Mrs. Leighton's
letter, which she did eventually in very guarded terms, stating that she
had proof of the marriage having taken place, but could say no more,
except that, "being much pleased with Miss Leigh, she intended to keep
her, especially as the children were very much under her own eye, and
seldom alone with their governess."

Mr. Markham was generally the first down, and was rather addicted to a
curious inspection of the post-mark on the family correspondence, neatly
placed by each recipient's plate.

His wife one morning found him standing over a large ship letter directed
to the governess, with somewhat the expression of distrustful pugnacity
with which a dog walks round a hedgehog.

"Is that for Miss Leigh?" said she, carelessly.

"Yes," with much solemnity. "Apparently she has a correspondent in the
Navy. It is not a sort of thing I like, and I must say I have often
thought Miss Leigh too young and flighty for me."

"Oh, I believe she is engaged, poor girl!" said Mrs. Markham, slipping
out a white one. "And she gets the children on beautifully. You thought
Emma already so improved in playing."

"Well if you know all about it, that's another thing. I trust she doesn't
put nonsense in the children's heads. Emma is getting very forward and
inquisitive."

His wife felt secretly excited, for she was sure this letter must be from
the errant husband, especially as the governess would not read it in
public, but pocketed it with a slight nervousness of manner.

Time passed on, and Mrs. Markham had discovered nothing.

Bluebell, in her diligent revision of the papers, found much of personal
interest. Colonel Rolleston's regiment had been ordered home to proceed
to the Crimea, and she well knew the anxiety his family must be enduring.

It seemed cold and ungrateful to be unable to write one word of sympathy
to Mrs. Rolleston, but any renewal of intercourse must lead to
explanations, and it was her cruel fate to be able to give none. One
other name, too, she saw in the public print that ought no longer to have
had the power to thrill her as it did. Well, it was not so long ago,
after all: but, however mentally disquieted we leave our heroine, as she
has now dri