handsome set, the ear-rings being too short,
and the brooch an awkward pattern, still they
are valuable, and I send you the sum you
require. As for Hester, the child is getting
tiresome, and teases me with her questions. I
have heard of a cheap school to which I think
of sending her. It is almost a charity school,
indeed; but I cannot afford a better one, and I
dare say it will do for the creature very well."

Did the soldier boy smile or sigh when these
lines came under his eyes, or had he leisure in
the hurry of his own young life to pause and
ruminate on the mystery of a pearl necklace
and a charity school? One might wonder a
little looking over this letter, seeing that Lady
Humphrey had a determined appearance, and
that one is apt to associate determination of
character with strength of mind, or at least
with common sense. But Lady Humphrey
was as determined in her indulgence of her
smallest personal whims as in the dauntless
carrying out of her most audacious plans.

Hester Cashel was utterly friendless except
in so far as Lady Humphrey had stood and
meant to stand her friend. Some one had died
abroad, and bequeathed an infant to the cold-
eyed lady. What motives were at work to
make the owner of so hard a voice open her
heart and take the child in, has never been
clearly ascertained by any one. People said
she did open her heart; but I am disposed to
think that she only extended her arms, maybe
held out a reluctant hand, or a finger. But
even a finger is enough for a toddling baby to
grasp, and hold on by with its two tiny hands.
And so this orphan became the property of
Lady Humphrey.

The woman's husband was dead, her son
necessarily removed from her, and she herself
was not the sort of person to win her way into
new hearts and draw them near her own. It
followed naturally that the babe Hester, growing
a strong and graceful child, should prove
an interest and an amusement to her protectress.
Her beauty had pleased the lady, and
her prattle diverted her for some seven or eight
years. She had been decked and flattered,
indulged and neglected, trained and drilled, and
left to run wild again, according to the humour
and circumstances of Lady Humphrey. There
had lately arrived a time, however, when the
soul that was in the child had began to trouble
the worldly woman. Hester was growing too
thoughtful, too questioning, too fanciful, too
"old fashioned." Even the sight of the pretty
figure, tricked out in trinkets and satins, did not
compensate for the annoyance of the child's
earnestness. So long as the small lisping voice
would content itself with trilling sentimental
ditties accompanied by chubby fingers thrumming
a guitar, to the delight of Lady
Humphrey and her visitors, it was all very well, and
the clever little mite was charming. But it
did not amuse Lady Humphrey to hear the
words of wisdom coming out of the lips of a
babe, nor did it please her at all to be convicted
of ignorance by the truthful troubled gaze of
two spiritual eyes, looking out of even so tiny
a puzzled head. The child, too, was becoming
less gay and lively, and getting a habit which
the lady could not endure, a trick of talking to
herself and to lifeless things. And it was this
simple folly of the little one that sealed her
childish fate at the last.

For on the evening of that summer day on
which a letter was written mentioning a humble
school, Lady Humphrey, after some seeking,
found the missing Hester among the pictures
alone, and it was almost dark. The child was
leaning softly towards a dusky canvas, from
which a pale face just glimmered through the
shadows. "Come out, Mary Stuart," she was
whispering, with her hands extended pleadingly
towards the picture, "Come out, Mary Stuart,
and hear the nightingales!"

The witness of this scene, the lady on whose
mouth there had never been any sweetness,
felt forcibly that a whole ocean of mystery lay
between the opening nature of this child and
her own, which was grown and matured, and
never could know change. And she wanted to
get the child out of her sight. And next day
she drove to a dingy house in Islington to
make inquiries. And very soon little Hester
was carried away out of her dreams under the
shadow of the great palace, from her talks with
her dear kings and queens, and her raptures
at the singing of the nightingales. And this
is how little Hester was banished from Fairyland.

Her anguish and fear were terrible at first;
they frightened the children of the school and
wearied the mistress. But a week of punishment
tamed the little spirit, and Hester settled
meekly to her lessons in the schoolroom. With
pale cheeks and shadows round her eyes she
announced herself "very happy," by and by,
over her books. She hemmed some ruffles for
Lady Humphrey and wrote her a letter. And
the lady did not quite desert her. She missed
the little presence about her more than she had
expected. Besides, she was at this time much
vexed by the failure of speculations, of
cherished plans for the enrichment of her son, and
sometimes needed a novelty to distract her
thoughts. She called often at the dingy house,
and brought Hester back to her paradise. It
amused her to see the half-laughing, half-weeping
ecstasy of the child at sight of the country.
Not a wreath in the hedge, not a green-breasted
duck among the sedges missed her eye, or was
too simple a subject for her joy. Lady
Humphrey could understand clapping of hands and
merriment, and as gradually the little girl grew
shrewd enough to keep her wonders and fancies
to herself, and to refrain from asking difficult
questions, she was found to be exceedingly
improved, and a much less tiresome companion
than she had been.

Thus she lived, henceforth, a strange two-
sided sort of life. At her school she was driven
about harshly enough, shrieked at and scolded
for the smallest fault; mocked by rude school-
fellows for her daintier habits. Her garments