stormy,
dark, and noisy sea of but a week ago!" so said the friends to each
other, as they listened to its distant musical murmur, and heard the
waves break gently on the shingly beach.

Although we have called them friends, there was a considerable
difference in their ages. That tall and pleasing, though plain, girl in
black, was the governess of the younger. Her name was Emilie Schomberg.
The little rosy, dark-eyed, and merry girl, her pupil, we shall call
Edith Parker. She had scarcely numbered twelve Mays, and was at the age
when primrosing and violeting have not lost their charms, and when
spring is the most welcome, and the dearest of all the four seasons.
Emilie Schomberg, as her name may lead you to infer, was a German. She
spoke English, however, so well, that you would scarcely have supposed
her to be a foreigner, and having resided in England for some years, had
been accustomed to the frequent use of that language. Emilie Schomberg
was the daily governess of little Edith. Little she was always called,
for she was the youngest of the family, and at eleven years of age, if
the truth must be told of her, was a good deal of a baby.

Several schemes of education had been tried for this same little
Edith,--schools and governesses and masters,--but Emilie Schomberg, who
now came to her for a few hours every other day, had obtained greater
influence over her than any former instructor; and in addition to the
German, French, and music, which she undertook to teach, she instructed
Edith in a few things not really within her province, but nevertheless
of some importance; of these you shall judge. The search for primroses
was not a silent search--Edith is the first speaker.

"Yes, Emilie, but it was very provoking, after I had finished my lessons
so nicely, and got done in time to walk out with you, to have mamma
fancy I had a cold, when I had nothing of the kind. I almost wish some
one would turn really ill, and then she would not fancy I was so, quite
so often."

"Oh, hush, Edith dear! you are talking nonsense, and you are saying what
you cannot mean. I don't like to hear you so pert to that kind mamma of
yours, whenever she thinks it right to contradict you."

"Emilie, I cannot help saying, and you know yourself, though you call
her kind, that mamma is cross, very cross sometimes. Yes, I know she is
very fond of me and all that, but still she _is_ cross, and it is no
use denying it. Oh, dear, I wish I was you. Yo