for Helena's marriage with a German nobleman. "You must
not mind her appearance," went on the letter. "She is the oddest-looking
person; wears spectacles, caps, enormous bonnets, and has a great scar
on her mouth and chin; and though she can't be more than thirty, her
hair is gray; she is also slightly lame. But, understand you, she is a
_lady_, with it all, and looks one."

When this description reached East Lynne, Barbara laughed at it as she
read it aloud to Mr. Carlyle. He laughed also.

"It is well governesses are not chosen according to their looks," he
said, "or I fear Madame Vine would stand but a poor chance."

They resolved to engage her, and word went back to that effect.

A strangely wild tumult filled Lady Isabel's bosom. She first of all
hunted her luggage over, her desk, everything belonging to her lest any
mark on the linen might be there, which could give a clue to her former
self. The bulk of her luggage remained in Paris, warehoused, where it
had been sent ere she quitted Grenoble. She next saw to her wardrobe,
making it still more unlike anything she had used to wear; her caps,
save that they were simple, and fitted closely to the face, nearly
rivaled those of Miss Carlyle. Her handwriting she had been striving
for years to change the character of, and had so far succeeded that
none would now take it for Lady Isabel Vane's. But her hand shook as she
wrote to Mrs. Carlyle--who had written to her. She--_she_ writing to Mr.
Carlyle's wife! And in the capacity of a subordinate! How would she like
to live with her as a subordinate, as servant--it may be said--where
she had once reigned, the idolized lady? She must bear that, as she must
bear all else. Hot tears came into her eyes, with a gush, as they fell
on the signature, "Barbara Carlyle."

All ready, she sat down and waited the signal of departure; but that was
not to be yet. It was finally arranged that she should travel to England
and to West Lynne with Mrs. Latimer, and that lady would not return
until October. Lady Isabel could only fold her hands and strive for
patience.

But the day did come--it actually did; and Mrs. Latimer, Lady Isabel,
and Afy quitted Stalkenberg. Mrs. Latimer would only travel slowly, and
the impatient, fevered woman thought the journey would never end.

"You have been informed, I think, of the position of these unhappy
children that you are going to," Mrs. Latimer observed to her one day.
"You must not speak to the