close behind me, and to get into the great corridors and passages
outside. I could have capered for very glee; only Mrs. Dance was a staid
sort of person, and might not have liked it.

"Her ladyship is pleased with you, I am sure," she remarked, as we went
along.

"That is more than I am with her," I answered, pertly. Mrs. Dance looked
shocked.

"You must not talk in that way, dear, on any account," she said. "You
must try to like Lady Chillington; it is to your interest to do so. But
even should you never learn to like her, you must not let anyone know
it."

"I'm sure that I shall like the lady that you call Sister Agnes," I
said. "When shall I see her? To-morrow?"

Mrs. Dance looked at me sharply for a moment. "You think you shall like
Sister Agnes, eh? When you come to know her, you will more than like
her; you will love her. But perhaps Lady Chillington will not allow you
to see her."

"But why not?" I said abruptly, and I could feel my eyes flash with
anger.

"The why not I am not at liberty to explain," said Mrs. Dance, drily.
"And let me tell you, Miss Janet Hope, there are many things under this
roof of which no explanation will be given you, and if you are a wise,
good girl, you will not ask too many questions. I tell you this simply
for your own good. Lady Chillington cannot abear people that are always
prying and asking 'What does this mean?' and 'What does the other mean?'
A still tongue is the sign of a wise head."

Ten minutes later I had said my prayers and was in bed. "Don't go
without kissing me," I said to Dance as she took up the candle.

The old lady came back and kissed me tenderly. "Heaven bless you and
keep you, my dear!" she said, with solemn dignity. "There are those in
the world who love you very dearly, and some day perhaps you will know
all. I dare not say more. Good-night, and God bless you."

Mrs. Dance's words reached a chord in my heart that vibrated to the
slightest touch. I cried myself silently to sleep.

How long I had been asleep I had no means of knowing, but I was awakened
some time in the night by a rain of kisses, soft, warm, and light, on
lips, cheeks and forehead. The room was pitch dark, and for a second or
two I thought I was still at Park Hill, and that Miss Chinfeather had
come back from heaven to tell me how much she loved me. But this thought
passed away like the slide of a magic lantern, and I knew that I was at
Deepley Walls. The moment I knew this I put o