erstanding. Mary! can't you get her to see the stuff he is made of?'

'If she cannot do that for herself, no persuasion of mine will make
her,' said Mary.

'No! you do not half appreciate him either! No one does! And yet you
could, if you tried, do something with her! I see she does not think
you prejudiced. You made an impression to-night.'

Mary felt some consternation. Could it depend on her? She could
speak naturally, and from her heart in defence of Louis when occasion
served; but something within her forbade the thought of doing so on a
system. Was that something wrong! She could not answer; but contented
herself with the womanly intuition that showed her that anything of
persuasion in the present state of affairs would be ineffectual and
unbecoming.

Meantime, Clara had fled to her little room, to bid her childhood
farewell in a flood of bitter tears.

Exaggerated shame, past disdain of the foibles of others, the fancy
that she was publicly disgraced and had forfeited Louis's good opinion,
each thought renewed her sobs; but the true pang was the perception
that old times were passed for ever. He might forgive, he would still
be friend and cousin; but womanhood had broken on her, and shown that
perfect freedom was at an end. Happy for her that she wept but for the
parting from a playfellow! Happy that her feelings were young and
undeveloped, free from all the cruel permanence that earlier vanity or
self-consciousness might have given; happy that it could be so freely
washed away! When she had spent her sobs, she could resolve to be wise
and steady, so as to be a fit governess to his children; and the tears
flowed at the notion of being so distant and respectful to his
lordship. But what stories she could tell them of his boyhood! And in
the midst of--'Now, my dears, I will tell you about your papa when he
was a little boy,' she fell asleep.

That party was a thing to be remembered with tingling cheeks for life,
and Clara dreaded her next meeting with Louis; but the days passed on
without his coming to the Terrace, and the terror began to wear off,
especially as she did not find that any one else remembered her
outbreak. Mary guarded against any unfavourable impression by a few
simple words to Isabel and Miss King as to the brotherly terms that had
hitherto prevailed, and poor Clara's subsequent distress. Clara came in
for some of the bright tints in which her brother was viewed at the
House