ung fawn, her fresh lips parted by an incipient smile of
hope, and her cheeks in a rosy glow of health, a very Hebe, as Mr.
Saville had once called her.

Such a morning face as hers was not always met by Miss Fennimore, who,
herself able to exist on five hours' sleep, had no mercy on that of her
pupils; and she rewarded Phoebe's smiling good-morrow with 'This is
better than I expected, you returned home so late.'

'Robert could not come for me early,' said Phoebe.

'How did you spend the evening?'

'Miss Charlecote read aloud to me. It was a delightful German story.'

'Miss Charlecote is a very well-informed person, and I am glad the time
was not absolutely lost. I hope you observed the condensation of the
vapours on your way home.'

'Robert was talking to me, and the nightingales were singing.'

'It is a pity,' said Miss Fennimore, not unkindly, 'that you should not
cultivate the habit of observation. Women can seldom theorize, but they
should always observe facts, as these are the very groundwork of
discovery, and such a rare opportunity as a walk at night should not be
neglected.'

It was no use to plead that this was all very well when there was no
brother Robert with his destiny in the scales, so Phoebe made a meek
assent, and moved to the piano, suppressing a sigh as Miss Fennimore set
off on a domiciliary visit to the other sisters.

Mr. Fulmort liked his establishment to prove his consequence, and to the
old family mansion of the Mervyns he had added a whole wing for the
educational department. Above, there was a passage, with pretty little
bed-rooms opening from it; below there were two good-sized rooms, with
their own door opening into the garden. The elder ones had long ago
deserted it, and so completely shut off was it from the rest of the
house, that the governess and her pupils were as secluded as though in a
separate dwelling. The schoolroom was no repulsive-looking abode; it was
furnished almost well enough for a drawing-room; and only the easels,
globes, and desks, the crayon studies on the walls, and a formidable
time-table showed its real destination.

The window looked out into a square parterre, shut in with tall laurel
hedges, and filled with the gayest and sweetest blossoms. It was Mrs.
Fulmort's garden for cut flowers; supplying the bouquets that decked her
tables, or were carried to wither at balls; and there were three long,
narrow beds, that Phoebe and her younger sisters sti