dear," said her stepmother, in a reassuring
tone. "Do not alarm our good Mrs. Manning,
who will be here in a moment, with
so early a display of what I must call—
temper. Please to remember, in your turn,
that your father, dear soul! confided you
to my sole care. You have—have we not
all?—faults to correct, deficiencies to make
good. Alone, I am unequal to such a task.
I have therefore—Hush, here she is."

The door had opened, and Mrs. Manning's
stately figure moved darkly up the
room. Geraldine felt that there was
something imposing in the stern yet gracious
manner of her greeting, and, overawed
despite herself, went through the ceremony
of introduction as though in a dream.

That evening was a strange one to
Geraldine. The novelty of her position,
the manner of her companions, her own
doubt and sorrow, her wounded pride—
these, altogether, cowed her spirit. Some
irresistible power seemed to be compelling
her, struggle as she would, to accept the
circumstances in which fate had placed her.
What if she did? Only for a short time
longer; she was past sixteen. Could they
pretend to treat her as a child? A prompt
and cheerful acquiescence might be the
wiser course. And with that resolution,
made on her pillow, the poor child wept
herself to sleep, and dreamed of her father.

The next day lessons began. Mrs.
Manning examined her, calmly and rigidly,
neither praising her acquirements nor
noticing shortcomings; then, briefly laying
out a general plan of study, supplied her
with the needful books, and left her to
tasks of no slight description. Her manner,
without actual severity, was hard and
distant. Nevertheless, Geraldine did not
despair of conciliating her, and, in
pursuance of her overnight determination,
applied herself heartily to her work.

Her reward was a half smile, and a
glance which at once expressed surprise
and taught Geraldine that her governess's
aim had been to test her abilities to the
utmost.

Later the three walked in the sombre
grounds, Melusina cold, but gentle; Mrs.
Manning lofty and didactic; Geraldine sad
and thoughtful, with a singular prescience
of some impending evil whose nature she
could not divine. One thing only was
clear. It was intended to make her
understand that she was a child again, without
independence of movement or of mind.
She could not repress a shudder as she
glanced at the dismal mansion, with its
huge strong portals and barred casements,
and noticed that through the gloomy
avenues that encircled it no human
dwelling was visible.

The next day, and the next, and the
next, Miss Fonnereau observed that her
lessons were gradually augmented. Also,
that her governess, far from commending
her proficiency, seemed rather disappointed
at finding no cause of rebuke; still she
worked on. The company of her hardest
books was preferable to that of Melusina,
who affected to have no business, uninvited,
in what was called the "schoolroom."

One morning Geraldine, in replying to
her governess, made use (as she had often
done before) of a French expression.

"Speak English, if you please, Miss
Fonnereau," said Mrs. Manning, corrugating
her stern white brows.

"It is so habitual with me," pleaded
Geraldine.

"No reply. I have warned you," said
Mrs. Manning.

Geraldine coloured, and glanced at her
preceptress. Again, the sense of her helpless
position seemed to chain her tongue.
She bowed her head, and again promised
herself to do what she might to obey.

Habits, however, are not to be overcome
at a word. Next morning the dreadful
offence was repeated.

"This is unfortunate," said the governess,
coldly, and closing the book she had in her
hand. "I must correct you."

"Correct me!" exclaimed Geraldine,
flushing scarlet. "For what? And how?"

"For disobedience. With this," was the
deliberate reply.

Mrs. Manning rose, and going to a
cabinet, unlocked it, and produced a small
and thin, but spiteful-looking, riding-rod.

The sight of the humiliating instrument
was too much.

"Great heavens, madam!" cried Geraldine,
starting up; " are you going to
assault me?"

"Bare your neck and shoulders,"
answered Mrs. Manning, composedly as ever.
"We call it chastisement."

"I will die first!" exclaimed Geraldine,
bursting into a passion of tears. "I am
going to acquaint Mrs. Fonnereau of this
outrage."

"That may be best," replied Mrs. Manning.
And she laid down the whip.

Melusina was tranquilly at work, when
Geraldine, panting and weeping, burst into
the room, and related the insult she had
received.

Mrs. Fonnereau's slightly enamelled
features betrayed no sympathy. She even