as the Epsom day is over.'

'You saw them!'

'Only in the Park--oh, no! not in a room! Their ladyships would never
call on Madame la Marquise; she is not received, you know. I heard the
sisters talk it all over when they fancied me reading, and wonder what
they should do if it should turn out to be the daughter. But then
Juliana thinks Mervyn might never bring her home, for he is going on at
such a tremendous rate, that it is the luckiest thing our fortunes do not
depend on the business.'

Phoebe looked quite appalled as she entered the schoolroom, not only at
Mervyn's fulfilment of his threat, but at Bertha's flippancy and
shrewdness. Hitherto she had been kept ignorant of evil, save what
history and her own heart could tell her. But these ten days had been
spent in so eagerly studying the world, that her girlish chatter was
fearfully precocious.

'A little edged tool,' said Miss Fennimore, when she talked her over
afterwards with Phoebe. 'I wish I could have been with her at Lady
Bannerman's. It is an unsafe age for a glimpse of the world.'

'I hope it may soon be forgotten.'

'It will never be forgotten' said Miss Fennimore. 'With so strong a
relish for society, such keen satire, and reasoning power so much
developed, I believe nothing but the devotional principle could subdue
her enough to make her a well-balanced woman. How is that to be
infused?--that is the question.'

'It is, indeed.'

'I believe,' pursued the governess, 'that devotional temper is in most
cases dependent upon uncomprising, exclusive faith. I have sometimes
wondered whether Bertha, coming into my hands so young as she did, can
have imbibed my distaste to dogma; though, as you know, I have made a
point of non-interference.'

'I should shudder to think of any doubts in poor little Bertha's mind,'
said Phoebe. 'I believe it is rather that she does not think about the
matter.'

'I will read Butler's _Analogy_ with her,' exclaimed Miss Fennimore. 'I
read it long ago, and shall be glad to satisfy my own mind by going over
it again. It is full time to endeavour to form and deepen Bertha's
convictions.'

'I suppose,' said Phoebe, almost to herself, 'that all naughtiness is the
want of living faith--'

But Miss Fennimore, instead of answering, had gone to another subject.

'I have seen St. Matthew's, Phoebe.'

'And Robert?' cried Phoebe. 'Bertha did not say you were with her.'

'I went alone. No doubt your brother found