red Caroline had vanished.

Hortense received her former pupil with a demeanour of more dignity than
warmth. She had been seriously offended by Mr. Helstone's proceedings,
and had all along considered Caroline to blame in obeying her uncle too
literally.

"You are a very great stranger," she said austerely, as her pupil held
and pressed her hand. The pupil knew her too well to remonstrate or
complain of coldness. She let the punctilious whim pass, sure that her
natural _bonte_ (I use this French word because it expresses just what I
mean--neither goodness nor good-nature, but something between the two)
would presently get the upper hand. It did. Hortense had no sooner
examined her face well, and observed the change its somewhat wasted
features betrayed, than her mien softened. Kissing her on both cheeks,
she asked anxiously after her health. Caroline answered gaily. It would,
however, have been her lot to undergo a long cross-examination, followed
by an endless lecture on this head, had not Miss Mann called off the
attention of the questioner by requesting to be conducted home. The poor
invalid was already fatigued. Her weariness made her cross--too cross
almost to speak to Caroline; and besides, that young person's white
dress and lively look were displeasing in the eyes of Miss Mann. The
everyday garb of brown stuff or gray gingham, and the everyday air of
melancholy, suited the solitary spinster better; she would hardly know
her young friend to-night, and quitted her with a cool nod. Hortense
having promised to accompany her home, they departed together.

Caroline now looked round for Shirley. She saw the rainbow scarf and
purple dress in the centre of a throng of ladies, all well known to
herself, but all of the order whom she systematically avoided whenever
avoidance was possible. Shyer at some moments than at others, she felt
just now no courage at all to join this company. She could not, however,
stand alone where all others went in pairs or parties; so she approached
a group of her own scholars, great girls, or rather young women, who
were standing watching some hundreds of the younger children playing at
blind-man's buff.

Miss Helstone knew these girls liked her, yet she was shy even with them
out of school. They were not more in awe of her than she of them. She
drew near them now, rather to find protection in their company than to
patronize them with her presence. By some instinct they knew her
weakness,