deeper and more tender compassion; she translated Dora's
curt words into civil English, and then wrote to Miss Charteris.
Valentine quite understood upon reading them that she was not yet
pardoned by Ronald Earle's wife.

Time passed on without any great changes, until the year came when Lady
Earle thought her grandchildren should begin their education. She was
long in selecting one to whom she could intrust them. At length she met
with Mrs. Vyvian, the widow of an officer who had died in India, a lady
qualified in every way for the task, accomplished, a good linguist,
speaking French and Italian as fluently as English--an accomplished
musician, an artist of no mean skill, and, what Lady Earl valued still
more, a woman of sterling principles and earnest religious feeling.

It was not a light task that Mrs. Vyvian undertook. The children had
reached their fifth year, and for ten years she bound herself by
promise to remain with them night and day, to teach and train them. It
is true the reward promised was great. Lady Earle settled a handsome
annuity upon her. Mrs. Vyvian was not dismayed by the lonely house,
the complete isolation from all society, or the homely appearance of
the farmer and his wife. A piano and a harp were sent to the Elms.
Every week Lady Earle dispatched a large box of books, and the
governess was quite content.

Mrs. Vyvian, to whom Lady Earle intrusted every detail of her son's
marriage, was well pleased to find that Dora liked her and began to
show some taste for study. Dora, who would dream of other things when
Ronald read, now tried to learn herself. She was not ashamed to sit
hour after hour at the piano trying to master some simple little air,
or to ask questions when anything puzzled her in her reading. Mrs.
Vyvian, so calm and wise, so gentle, yet so strong, taught her so
cleverly that Dora never felt her own ignorance, nor did she grow
disheartened as she had done with Ronald.

The time came when Dora could play pretty simple ballads, singing them
in her own bird-like, clear voice, and when she could appreciate great
writers, and speak of them without any mistake either as to their names
or their works.

It was a simple, pleasant, happy life; the greater part of the day was
spent by mother children in study. In the evening came long rambles
through the green woods, where Dora seemed to know the name and history
of every flower that grew; over the smiling meadows, where the ki