iance, and yet such bitter shame. She turned away, took her little
pupils by the hand, and walked out of the chapel. I dared not follow
her; but many times since then I have watched her from the same spot,
taking care that she should not see me. Who would think that haggard
woman, sharp in manner, careless in dress--you see how closely I observe
her--was the blithe Christal of old! But I sometimes fancied, even
from her sporting, that there was the tigress-nature in that girl. Poor
thing! And she had the power of passionately loving, too. Ah! we should
all be slow to judge. We never can look into the depths of one another's
hearts."

... "Christal saw me to-day. Her eye was almost demoniacal in its
threatening. Perhaps the pity she must have read in mine only kindled
hers with wrath the more. I do not think she will come to the chapel
again."

... "My dear Miss Rothesay, I do not like playing this underhand
game--it almost makes me despise myself. Yet it is with a good intent;
and I would do anything from my friendship for you.

"I have heard much about your sister to-day from a girl who is a
_pensionnaire_ at Madame Blandin's. But fear not, I did the questioning
skillfully, nor betrayed anything. My friend, you know me well as you
say; but even you know not how wisely I can acquire one secret and hold
fast another. An honourable school of hypocrisy I learnt in, truly!
But to my subject. Little Clotilde does not love her instructress. Poor
Christal seems to be at war with the whole household. The pupil and the
poor teacher must be very different in Madame Blandin's eyes. No wonder
the girl is embittered--no marvel are those storms of passion, in
which, according to Clotilde, she indulges, 'just as if she were a great
English _miladi_, when she is nobody at all, as I told her once,' said
the triumphant little French girl.

"'And what did she answer?' asked I.

"'She went into a great fury, and shook me till I trembled all over;
then she threw herself on her own bed, at one end of the dormitory, and
all that night, whenever I woke, I heard her crying and moaning. I would
have been sorry for her, except that she was _only_ the teacher--a poor
penniless _Anglaise_.'

"This, my friend, is the lesson that Christal must soon have to learn.
It will wring her heart, and either break it or soften it. But trust me,
I will watch over her continually. Ill fitted I may be, for the duty
is more that of 'a woman'--such a woman a