siastically. Maud became
eager to know "what the lady was like?" I at the same time inquiring
"who she was?"

"Who? I really did not ask," John answered, smiling. "But of what she
is, Jessop gave me first-rate evidence--a good daughter, who teaches in
Norton Bury anybody's children for any sort of pay, in order to
maintain an ailing mother. Ursula, you would let her teach our Maud, I
know?"

"Is she an Englishwoman?"--For Mrs. Halifax, prejudiced by a certain
French lady who had for a few months completely upset the peace of the
manor-house, and even slightly tainted her own favourite, pretty Grace
Oldtower, had received coldly this governess plan from the beginning.
"Would she have to live with us?"

"I think so, decidedly."

"Then it can't be. The house will not accommodate her. It will hardly
hold even ourselves. No, we cannot take in anybody else at Longfield."

"But--we may have to leave Longfield."

The boys here turned to listen; for this question had already been
mooted, as all family questions were. In our house we had no secrets:
the young folk, being trusted, were ever trustworthy; and the parents,
clean-handed and pure-hearted, had nothing that they were afraid to
tell their children.

"Leave Longfield!" repeated Mrs. Halifax; "surely--surely--" But
glancing at her husband, her tone of impatience ceased.

He sat gazing into the fire with an anxious air.

"Don't let us discuss that question--at least, not to-night. It
troubles you, John. Put it off till to-morrow."

No, that was never his habit. He was one of the very few who, a thing
being to be done, will not trust it to uncertain "to-morrows." His wife
saw that he wanted to talk to her, and listened.

"Yes, the question does trouble me a good deal. Whether, now that our
children are growing up, and our income is doubling and trebling year
by year, we ought to widen our circle of usefulness, or close it up
permanently within the quiet bound of little Longfield. Love, which
say you?"

"The latter, the latter--because it is far the happiest."

"I am afraid, NOT the latter, because it IS the happiest."

He spoke gently, laying his hand on his wife's shoulder, and looking
down on her with that peculiar look which he always had when telling
her things that he knew were sore to hear. I never saw that look on
any living face save John's; but I have seen it once in a picture--of
two Huguenot lovers. The woman is trying to fasten r