d Dr. Bryerly--you recollect the thin gentleman in
spectacles and a black wig, who spent three days here last
month?--should come and enquire for the key, you understand, in my
absence."

"But you will then be absent, sir," I said. "How am I to find the key?"

"True, child. I am glad you are so wise. _That_, you will find, I have
provided for. I have a very sure friend--a friend whom I once
misunderstood, but now appreciate."

I wondered silently whether it would be Uncle Silas.

"He'll make me a call some day soon, and I must make a little journey
with him. He's not to be denied; I have no choice. But on the whole I
rather like it. Remember, I say, I rather like it."

I think it was about a fortnight after this conversation that I was one
night sitting in the great drawing-room window, when on a sudden, on the
grass before me stood an odd figure--a very tall woman in grey
draperies, courtesying rather fantastically, smiling very unpleasantly
on me, and gabbling and cackling shrilly--I could not distinctly hear
_what_--and gesticulating oddly with her long arms and hands. This was
Madame de la Rougierre, my new governess.

I think all the servants hated her. She was by no means a pleasant
_gouvernante_ for a nervous girl of my years. She was always making
excuses to consult my father about my contumacy and temper. She
tormented me by ghost stories to cover her nocturnal ramblings, and she
betrayed a terrifying curiosity about his health and his will. My cousin
Monica, Lady Knollys, who visited us about this time, was shocked at her
presence in the house; it was the cause of a rupture between my father
and her. But not even a frustrated attempt to abduct me during one of
our walks--which I am sure madame connived at--could shake my father's
confidence in her, though he was perfectly transported with fury on
hearing what had happened. It was not until I found her examining his
cabinet by means of a false key that he dismissed her; but madame had
contrived to leave her glamour over me, and now and then the memory of
her parting menaces would return with an unexpected pang of fear.

My father never alluded again to Madame de la Rougierre, but, whether
connected with her exposure and dismissal or not, there appeared to be
some new trouble at work in his mind.

"I am anxious about you, Maud," he said. "_You_ are more interested than
_I_ can be in vindicating his character."

"Whose character, sir?" I ventured to inq