d drove into the
village, a small place, which contained, however, a telegraph office,
about a mile and a half away. Before she went she conducted her young
guest to a beautiful bedroom on the first floor, which she said she
would give her not only for a bedroom but also as part sitting-room. It
was furnished in a style that Rosamund, well off as her parents were,
had never seen before. The room was full of quaint and beautiful things,
and there was a bookcase of delightful books--Kingsley's, Miss Yonge's,
and many other favorite authors.

"Lie down, dear," said Lady Jane. "You look very tired. Forget Irene for
the time. I shall be back before long, and will send your lunch up to
you. We will just have your mother's permission, and then we shall feel
in a straightforward position. She may, of course, wish you to return at
once to her."

"I do not think mother will do that. She is not a frightened sort of
person. Anyhow, you know what I feel about your daughter."

"I do, and God bless you, my love!"

Lady Jane departed, and Rosamund found herself alone in her great room.
She looked around her, uttered a weary sigh, and sank into a chair near
the window.

Presently she heard a scuffling noise and cries outside, in the passage.
She heard the voice of a maid-servant saying, "Oh, Miss Irene! Miss
Irene! don't do it; you oughtn't--you oughtn't!" then a scream, and then
a girl's hurrying footsteps dying away in the distance.

"I wish I could fly out and give Irene a good box on the ears," thought
Rosamund. "I'll soon break her off those horrid tricks. Of course I am
going to stay here, and of course I am going to reform her, and of
course--oh, how strange everything is! I think I'll lock the door. I
don't choose her to come in now until I get mother's consent. Afterwards
all is plain sailing."

Rosamund got up softly and locked the door, not a minute too soon, for
she had scarcely done so before the handle was turned and the voice of
Irene was heard outside crying through the keyhole, "What changeling is
in this room? Which of you housemaids has dared to lock herself in?
Come out! I've got a big spider ready, and"----

But Irene's voice died away for some extraordinary reason, and Rosamund
for the time was left in peace. She drew the chair near the window, took
up Kingsley's _Hypatia_ from the shelf, and tried to interest herself in
a story which always had the deepest fascination for her. But by-and-by
sleep overpow