stand the fatigue of town life.

"Now, Hartley," Mrs. Railton said, in that cheery way that always made
me feel things must be going to take a turn for the better--"now
understand me; it's not a cheerful place i'm sending you to. The house
is big and gloomy; my niece is nervous, vaporish; her husband--well,
he's generally away; and the two children are dead. A year ago, I would
as soon have thought of shutting a rosy active girl like you into a
vault; but you're not particularly brisk yourself just now, are you?
and a quiet place, with country air and wholesome food and early hours,
ought to be the very thing for you. Don't mistake me," she added, for I
suppose I looked a trifle downcast; "you may find it dull, but you
won't be unhappy. My niece is an angel. Her former maid, who died last
spring, had been with her twenty years and worshipped the ground she
walked on. She's a kind mistress to all, and where the mistress is
kind, as you know, the servants are generally good-humored, so you'll
probably get on well enough with the rest of the household. And you're
the very woman I want for my niece: quiet, well-mannered, and educated
above your station. You read aloud well, I think? That's a good thing;
my niece likes to be read to. She wants a maid that can be something of
a companion: her last was, and I can't say how she misses her. It's a
lonely life...Well, have you decided?"

"Why, ma'am," I said, "I'm not afraid of solitude."

"Well, then, go; my niece will take you on my recommendation. I'll
telegraph her at once and you can take the afternoon train. She has no
one to wait on her at present, and I don't want you to lose any time."

I was ready enough to start, yet something in me hung back; and to gain
time I asked, "And the gentleman, ma'am?"

"The gentleman's almost always away, I tell you," said Mrs. Ralston,
quick-like--"and when he's there," says she suddenly, "you've only to
keep out of his way."

I took the afternoon train and got out at D---- station at about four
o'clock. A groom in a dog-cart was waiting, and we drove off at a smart
pace. It was a dull October day, with rain hanging close overhead, and
by the time we turned into the Brympton Place woods the daylight was
almost gone. The drive wound through the woods for a mile or two, and
came out on a gravel court shut in with thickets of tall black-looking
shrubs. There were no lights in the windows, and the house _did_ look a
bit gloomy.

I had