from the most thoroughly unpoetical spot on
the face of the globe—Hammerham.'"

"Law! well now, I do think her ladyship's
rather 'ard on 'ammerham," Mrs. Charlewood
ventured to observe, in a timid voice.

"'Hammerham,'" continued Miss O'Brien;
"'and I want you, Geraldina mia, to find out all
about her. She's a most interesting creature;
has a striking air of bon ton, and shines amongst
her camarades de théâtre like a silver star
beside the flare of tallow candles. You can easily
hear of her, for Alfred Trescott, my handsome
fiddler, says she was a great friend of the—oh
dear me, I never remember names, but I know
he mentioned those people——'" Miss O'Brien
stumbled a little here, and coloured; then she
proceeded in a rather hesitating manner: "'the
family of the lady that your cousin Malachi is
going to marry.'"

We, who have the privilege of peeping over
her shoulder, can see that Miss O'Brien omitted
a phrase or two, and altered another, in her
godmother's letter, and that Lady Popham's
words really ran thus: "those rich bricks-and-
mortar people that Mrs. Dawson has got hold
of for your cousin Malachi."

"Well," said Geraldine, looking round the
table, for during the last few minutes every one
had been attending to her, "well, can't
anybody guess who this mysterious Miss Bell
may be?"

"As true as I'm sitting 'ere," cried Mrs.
Charlewood, struck with a sudden conviction,
"I do believe it must be Mabel Earnshaw under
another name!"

There was a dead silence, and Geraldine
O'Brien, glancing at Clement, saw that he had
turned white even to the lips.

"Then it is true," said Geraldine, addressing
Mrs. Charlewood, "this young lady is a friend
of your family?"

Before her mother could reply, Augusta
struck in, with her most disdainful manner:

"She was a friend, Geraldine. That is to say,
we used to receive her here, and take a good
deal of notice of her at one time. But now,
of course, you understand that we can have
nothing more to say to her. Indeed, I may say,
she got into the Manor on false pretences in
some measure. For, had I known at first who
and what her family and connexions were, I
should never have thought of"——and Augusta
leaned back in her chair with a languid haughty
gesture that said as plainly as possible that she
could not be at the pains of pursuing so very
contemptible a subject.

"Why not? What has she done?" said
Miss O'Brien, fixing her frank bright eyes upon
Augusta's face. This was too much for Miss
Fluke, who had been snorting and panting and
swelling with suppressed indignation for some
time past, and who now burst forth with
irrepressible vehemence:

"What has she done? She has disgraced
herself and discredited the precious evangelical
teaching that she was so highly privileged as to
enjoy! She has forsaken a Christian home,
where strict piety was combined with the
instruction of the first professors, to join the
society of—of—rogues and vagabonds. In a
word, she has chosen the path of perdition with
her eyes open!" And Miss Fluke, as though to
illustrate her forcible phraseology, opened her
own eyes very wide indeed, and glared round
upon the company.

The Reverend Malachi Dawson, to whom
Miss Fluke was a quite new phenomenon,
stared at her with timid astonishment depicted
on his mild countenance; and when, in making
the circuit of the table, her eye lighted upon
him, he made an involuntary shrinking
movement, like that of one who tries to avoid an
expected blow.

"The carriages are at the door, ma'am,"
announced a servant to Mrs. Chariewood. Every
one rose immediately, and the interruption was
felt to be a most welcome one, for there was
a sense of uneasiness and of something vaguely
disagreeable hanging over all present; an
effect, indeed, which any ebullition of Miss
Fluke's eloquence was pretty sure to produce
on her hearers.

"Fairy godmother's letter seems to have
burst amongst us like a bomb-shell," said
Geraldine O'Brien to Walter, as she stood
putting on her gauntlets and waiting for her horse
to be brought up to the door. Walter coloured
and smiled uneasily. The weak vulgar vanity,
which was his besetting foible, made him dread
to compromise the family dignity in Miss
O'Brien's eyes by saying any word in
defence of Mabel, whom he really liked, and
thereby confessing a too intimate friendship
with a person in a social position which
he looked upon as so infinitely inferior to his
own. But there was yet a spark of manliness
in the lad which made him ashamed of
his cowardice.

"Where's your brother?" said Miss O'Brien,
looking round for Clement as the groom led her
horse up.

"Oh, please, miss," said the man, touching his
hat, "Mr. Clement's best compliments, and
would you kindly excuse him for the present?
He won't be able to go with the party, but will
ride out and meet you in the evening coming
home, if he can."

Miss O'Brien put her foot into Walter's palm,
and sprang neatly into the saddle.

"The old story," said Walter, as they rode
side by side down the avenue. "Clement's got
some business or other at the last minute, that
keeps him at Hammerham. The fact is, the
governor's business is on so vast a scale,"
added Watty, boastfully, "and Clem is such a
fellow for sticking to work and seeing to
everything himself, that we look upon it as quite a
wonder when he goes out even as much as he
has been doing lately."

"I don't believe it's business one bit," said
Geraldine O'Brien to herself, remembering
Clement's changing colour and disturbed face.
"Fairy godmother, fairy godmother, I'm afraid
you have innocently been doing a little