JANET:

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 49, 6 December 1890, Page 4

JANET:

THE STORY OF A GOVERNESS.

By MRS. OLIPHANT. Author of ‘Laird of Worlaw,’ ‘Agnes,

CHAPTER IX. __ ANET drew instinctively a little out of the "-ay of the new-comer. It was not, we fear, 3 with any intention of effacing herself, but to ■"'SSWy'J £/ satisfy the spectator's privilege of watching V'- all that happened and understanding every new situation. The change that had come over Cussy’s countenance took her by surprise. She had not thought it possible that such an illumination and transformation could take place in so ealm a face, and it be-

trayed Miss Harwood instantly to Janet’s quick perceptions. She was a little person whose reflections were very rapid—who saw in a moment a whole succession of possibilities. Her mind flashed from one to another in sudden surprise, conviction, imagination, asking herself was the man worth it ? almost in the same Hash of intelligence with which she perceived that to Gussy he was the first of men.

Janet saw various other matters in the moment of pushing back her chair. She saw that the stranger, now in the act of approaching Gussy, whose interest in him was so visible, recognised herself, and was surprised, with the slightest, scarcely visible, elevation of his eyebrows, as if asking an explanation. She also saw that Mrs Harwood made a slight movement of pleasure in the chair which she never ■ putted, as if in her mind making the same little start of welcome which her daughter actually did. Janet would not perhaps have gone farther than this if her attention had not been called by another movement of a different kind. Julia, who had been lying as usual on the rug with her book between her mother’s chair and the fire—a position which she could not be persuaded or forced to resign—suddenly disappeared with a sort of scrambling sound and movement, which came in not unlike a hiss into the very different sentiment with which the welcome of the others was given. Did she actually make some such sound between her closed teeth ? At all events, Janet’s rapid judgment Hew to the conclusion that Julia detested while the others cherished this visitor. Her own keen eyes made an inventory of him and all his visible qualities in a moment. Was he worth it? He was well-looking, nay, very good-look-ing, she concluded in that instantaneous survey : but a little of the order of the barber’s block—good features, very white where whiteness was becoming, very bright in colour where colour was necessary; good eyes, dark, and with considerable expression, which he entirely understood and could manage : the whiskers of respectability carefullykept under, disturbed by no extravagance of mustache or beard ; dark hair that curled in a very attractive way in close vigorous rings: not tall. This, in Janet’s opinion, was the worse thing about him ; for a girl's hero has always six feet of stature at the least. And he was perfectly well dressed in well-fitting evening clothes, which, though so generally objected to in matter of form, are yet, with their large foreground of dazzling linen and background of blackness, almost always becoming to men. All these things Janet remarked in a glance ; buf as for her first question, was he worth it ? she had not as yet come to any decision at all.

Gussy made no movement to present the stranger to the governess. She gave him a chair so near herself that Janet was obliged to draw back a little more to get herself out of the way. It was the first time that she had found herself «Zc trop in the little circle. She was not, however, at all wounded by this, being very curious and much excited by the little drama which thus seemed to come to light under her eyes. It must have been existing for some time, Janet thought. They must have reached at least the end of the second, if not the third, act, and with quite a Hush of interest she settled herself to watch its progress. Was she <le trop' Would they rather she went away ? Was Julia's disappearance a signal for her—a hint that she was not wanted? These ideas passed through Janet's head, but without disturbing her. She wanted above all things to follow this story out. ‘ I have only just got back to town.’ said Mr Meredith. ‘ I have hail a longer holiday than usual this year. ’ ‘ So we supposed, or I made sure we should have seen you,’ said < fussy, with undisguised pleasure in her face. * That seems like making a claim of right on Charley’s time,’ said Mrs Harwood ; ‘ we must not do that, for it is the last thing that young men like.’ ‘I think Gussy understands me best,’ he said, ‘ so far as that goes. Of course I should have come in any case the first evening I had.’ Janet said to herself that they must at least have begun the third act, as they called each other by their Christian names. ‘ You say in any case ?’ said Gussy, with an inquiring look. ‘ Yes ; fancy what was the first thing I heard to-day. I went into Mayhews's on my way to the Temple to get some pencils and there was someone inquiring for books for Mrs Harwood : so I knew that you also had reached home.’ ‘ • >h, yes, we have been at home a long time !' said Gussy. * Mamma never likes to be long away : and .In—you know Ju —was going downhill like an expie.-s train, getting more and more unmanageable and lefraciory every day.’ ‘ But 1 am happy to tell you, Charley, that Miss Summerliayes seems likely to work marvels. This was the only thing that approached an introduction, an<l Janet did not know whether to take any notice. Mr Meredith, however, jumped to his feet, anil made her a bow. ‘lt was Miss Summerhayes 1 saw changing the Issiks,' he said. Gussy made no remark. She was not in the least disturbed by this greeting. Janet had not even the satisfaction of thinking that Miss Harwood did not wish her to seek the visitor’s acquaintance. She ignored her altogether, as if she was of absolutely no importance—which

was much haider to bear, and a great surprise to the governess, who had hitherto been tieated with so much regard. ‘ Mamma cannot do without her books,’ she said, calmly. ‘ As for me. I have not heard a note of music since you have been away.’ *We must take order about that,’ he said. * I brought something with me to-night, a new thing by—what’s nis name—one of the men you like. The soprano part is verynice. We can tiy it over to-night.’ ‘And how did you leave your Aunt Owen, Charley, and what are they doing down in that part of the country ? Dear me, what changes I should find, to be sure, if I were to go down there again. All the I’linlimmons swept away, and my friends at the Grange, and Agatha Lloyd, and ’ ‘ Don’t think of it, mamma,’ said Gussy, humming over the air with the music in her hand, and interrupting herself to run in a few words between the bars. ‘ Think of your own people, and how well we all are—turn—turn—ti-tum—-turn—anil don’t let us distress ourselves aliout strangers, tu tu—tu-tu—tum-tum. Yes, I think I shall like this.’ ‘ Your friends at the Grange have not been swept away, Mrs Harwood. They are in perfect good case, and make the most tender inquiries for you. I came home full of Welsh news for you ; but it blows away after a day in chambers. Ask me as many questions as you please, and it will all come back.’

‘ Oh, never mind !’ said Gussy, with an impatience quite unusual to her, ‘ Tell us rather what yon have been doing yourself. Have yon had any sport? Have you met any nice people while you have been away ? Have you been singing a great deal, or met anybody whose voice goes with yours?’ * Not one like you,’ he said, with a glance that made Gussy’s colour rise. He added, after a moment, ‘ There were some ladies at the Lloyds’ who were very g„od musicians. We bad a little practice now and then. ’ ‘ Young ladies?’ asked Gussy. ‘ Well—yes, some of them were young. I >ne was a capital accompanist, and her sister’s voice was something quite remarkable. We managed that duet, don’t you know, that vc never could master, of Brahm’s.’

‘<th !’ said Gussy. The colour went slowly out of her face, leaving her very pale and gray. ‘ You must have enjoyed yourself very much,’ she said, in a subdued tone. ‘ Not so much as I do—here,’ he said, lowering his voice and bending towards her : and Janet, ever watching, saw Gussy’s face take fire again and glow with a tender Hush. Was the man worth it? He seemed to play upon her like an instrument, blowing her upwards one moment, the next bringing her down to the ground. All this time not the least notice had been taken of the governess, who went on with her sewing with a little thrill of observation and attention in her which ran to her very finger points. Even these finger points seemed to be roused into seeing and hearing, leading meanings and judging looks. Janet felt as if she were sitting apart at the rehearsal of a play. In this end of the room where the personages of the drama were sitting everything was light and brightness ; but the other end of the room was like an unoccupied auditorium, the lights low, and the space vacaftit, though quite in the depths of the scene there was an open piano with a gleam of white keys showing out of the dimness. Had (lussy left the piano open on purpose ? She had been in the habit of scolding J ulia for that injurious habit, but Janet now remembered that it had been left open for several nights. And where was Julia? and was it, perhaps, understood that she should vanish with her pupil ? All these things perplexed and disturbed Janet, who did not know what was meant.

Presently the scene changed, the dim background lighted up. and there were two people between her and the gleaming white keyboard of the piano. The episode grew more exciting than ever, for the two—lovers? surely they must be lovers —were going to sing together. Janet’s attention, however, was distracted f->r a moment or two by the same little stiHed sound which she had heard before, and looking up she saw Julia glide from behind the curtains and come back to her place on the rug. ‘Julia,’ cried Mrs Harwood, ‘ you will end by making me frightened. What do you mean by that selfish'way of stealing out and in ? Can’t you have a little respect'for your sister ? It is not so often that she sings.’ Julia fixed upon her mother her usual dogged look, lifting her head from her book, then, to Janet's supreme surprise, vouchsafed an answer. ‘ She’s so silly,' the girl said, with a glance of scorn. ‘Do you hear, Miss Summerhayes?’ said the old lady. * She is incorrigible. I thought we had come to an end of all that, Ju ?’ •lulia gave her mother another look, then returned to her book, with again a faint hiss from between her closed teeth. ‘ She is so much interested in her book,’ Janet made haste to say. ‘ When one gets into the heart of a story at her age one thinks of nothing else.’ * Do you think, Miss Summerhayes, that Ju ought to read so many novels ?’ * I thought,’ said .Janet, faltering, ‘ that it was with your permission.’ ‘ Oh,’ cried Mrs Harwood, ‘ I thought you might have seen by- this time how little they care for any tiling I say.’ She looked irritable, cross, disturbed, as Janet thought she had never seen her before, and moved uneasily in her chair. But she had shown no such annoyance when the visitor came in. She had received him with a cheerful welcome, and he had seemed in no doubt on that subject. Indeed, the young man had come in and had taken his place among them with the familiarity and complacency of a favoured visitor who expected to confer as well as receive pleasure. That line in Mrs Harwood's brow had not appeaied till Julia, with her dogged look, had stared into her mother’s face. ‘ 1 wish,’cried the old lady, ‘ oh, I wish that Adolphus would come home !’ and she wrung her white, plump hands with almost a tragic gesture, which was so strangely unlike her comfortable peison, and all that Janet had hitherto known of her, that the little governess had hard ado not to laugh. ‘ Do you expect Mr Harwood soon?’ she asked. ‘ They are all very self-willed. Miss Summerhayes. You must have seen that already. Gussy of course will not be guided by me. She thinks that things are meant which probably are not meant nt all—except to pass the time. And Julia, though she is not more than a child, sets herself up in judgement as if she were—Do you think I can do anything to stop it ?—even if it were desirable to stop it. And

why should I, for that matter, even if I could. It would be suitable encugh. How am I to tell, Miss Summerhayes, with no one to advise me, and such self-willed children to deal with ? Oh, I wish, I wish that Adolphus were here !’ Janet did not know what to make of this sudden burst of confidence. She was afraid to seem to wish to pry into her employer’s concerns, yet, with the impulse of youth, which is at once a kind meaning and a movement of vanity, wanted to say something which should be consolatory— to put forth her own little hand as a guide in the circumstances of which she was so entirely- ignorant. I am sure, dear Mrs Harwood, no one would doanythimwhich they knew you really disliked—you are so <-ood" Perhaps they don’t Know what you really dislike—anythin"’ that may be going on.’ ° To Janet’s surprise, Mrs Harwood received this enigmatical utterance as if it hail thrown real light upon the situation. She put her handkerchief to her eyes. I ‘lajesay you are right, my dear. I always said you were full of understanding for so young a thing. Perhaps that s what it is, after all. I don’t speak out. It would be much more sensible if I were to speak out.’ . There was a momentary silence, and the sound of the singing came in, the two voice 1 going ' together, rising into a burst of melody in the higher notes which made Janet pause and hold her breath. Mr Meredith hail a beautiful tenor voice, and Gussy’s, though not so good, aided the efiect with a somewhat tremulous second, twining out and in of the clear and masculine notes. Janet let her work drop and her attempt at consolation together, and sat rapt gazing at the pair. She was too young, too energetic, too ambitious for pure sympathy. She gazed with impatient longing to be in the midst of it. ‘Oh ! What a weak accompaniment !’ she said to herself. ‘ Why don’t they ask me to play it for them ? She might sing to her heart’s content ; but u'hy doesn’t she ask me to play ?’ Janet forgot Mrs Harwood, whom she had been in the act of advising and consoling, and Julia, who was her special care. She could scarcely restrain herself. ‘lt is too much for Miss Harwood to sing and play both,’ she said, with a sudden impulse, dropping her work upon the floor, half rising as if to lush to the rescue. Her own movement, however, brought her to herself: for what right had she, a stranger and a hireling, to interfere ? ‘ Miss Summerhayes !’ said Mrs Harwood. As this was all that was said, Janet detached her eyes from the scene at the piano, and looked at the old lady in the chair. Mrs Harwood was talking energetically with her eyes and gestures, though she said nothing. She indicated -Julia xvith a glance, then looked towards the door. She put her plump hands together with a little pantomimic prayer. Janet saw and understood, and sighed. She wanted to have a hand in the music ; she wanted to watch the story which was going on, which as yet she did not understand. 'But no. Her duty lay in another direction. It was the first time that she had felt her chains. ‘.Julia, come, come; it is our time/ she said, briskly. Miss Harwood at the piano, who had her back turned, took no notice of the little commotion of the withdrawal; but Mr Meredith turned round, still singing, and gave Janet a look out of those eyes which she had declared to herself were too black, too bright, too ostentatiously fringed with eyelashes —a look which meant respectful regret, a tinge of remonstrance, a veiled entreaty to stay, a sort of «w rci oir unspoken but eloquent. He could not make more thana slight inclination of his head, as he was singing, but the effeet was that of a most deferential bow. Janet was taken altogether by surprise. Had he appreciated her position all in a moment, read her abilities in her eyes, longed to have her at the piano as she longed to be there ? or was it a mere impulse of subjugation, the instinct of the eonqneior who desired another victim ? She was so startled that her heart jumped up suddenly like a bird as she left the room, and made one or two big beats in her ears. And then she laughed to herself apparently without any meaning at all.

CHAPTER X. Miss St .mmerh Al Es ! why did you laugh as we came up stairs ? Oh ’ said Janet, quite restored from that momentary impression. ‘I don t know. Because it is curious to come into the middle of a story ; it is like beginning a book, as Jou do sometimes, at the third volume. One wonders what hashappened before, as well as what is going to happen ‘You think that’n a story!’ ciied Julia, with scorn; because Gussy s a fool, and that man—l can t endure that man. ‘ You make that too easy for any one to see. I think you made a sound like what they do in the theatre.’ ‘ 1 hissed him,’ said Julia, her lowering eyebrows closing down over her eyes. ‘I always do. He can’t bear to be hissed. He is just like an actor : it makes him mad, and that is why I do it, and I always shall. I don’t care what anyone says.’ ‘ That is a pity, said Janet ; ‘for it will not harm him, but you. You forget that people care very little for the opinion of a girl of your age, especially when it is so rudely expressed. J ‘ They don’t care much for your opinion,’ said Julia, furious. No ; I did not expect it; and I have no opinion, excep that you must learn to be a gentlewoman—if that can b learnt—or else I must go away.’ Julia received this, as she usually- did Janet’s remons trances, with a look of rage, a flush of shame, and then a sudden self-subdual. ‘You want to go away,’ she said ’ ou are the only nice one that has ever been here ; and you want to go and leave me. I know you do. You’ll go before Dolff comes home, and then he’ll never know you and will think—will just think I am a stupid and don’t know anything, as they all do !’ ‘ Well, my dear child,’said Janet, who understood this broken speech perfectly well, and knew that she was being represented to ‘Dolfl'’ in the brightest colours, a thing bv no means indifferent to her, ‘ they are not very far wrong if they think so ; for a girl who hisses—even in the theatre

•I did once,’cried Julia, ‘in the theatre! They hail a hideous ballet in the pantomime like what one reads of in books—a woman making a show of herself—oh !’ The girl’s cheeks blazed crimson at the thought. ‘And I hissed—like »>«?■ Here Julia uttered a sound, in comparison with which a whole serpent house in highest exasperation would

have retired defeated, with the whole force of her youthful energy and breath. * Gussy pinched me black and blue to stop me, and I -wouldn’t. They never would take me to the theatre again.’ ‘I don't wonder,’ said Janet. 'So now you hiss the }>eople who come to call.' ‘Only Charley Meredith,’ said Julia. ‘ And,’ she added, subduing her tones, ‘ if he came in the morning I should not mind : but he comes at night without being invited, with his music, as if mamma was obliged to have him whether she liked it or not. And he gives himself such airs, as if he knew that Gussy —you think I don’t care for Gussy, Miss Summerhayes—but I do. I could kill her when she looks silly like that'. A woman !to let a man see that she Ob ! I could kill her wlien she looks at him like that.

‘ That is a pleasant way of showing how much you care for her," said Janet. *lt is quite natural that at fourteen you should think you know best; but if I hear you hiss again—’ the governess kissed the tips of her fingers— ‘ good bye, my dear ; that’s all there will be to say.’ ‘ You say that to beat medown,’ cried Julia. .* You. don’t really care” not a bit, whether I behave myself or not. I am not sure that you are any better than Charley Meredith. I don’t know that there is not just a pair of you. Well, then, do it if you like, there '. take him away from Gussy, break everybody’s heart, make Dolff think me a stupid for all I’ve said. 1 can see in your eyes that’s what you’d like to do. ’

‘ You have made me out a very pretty programme,’ said Janet laughing. ‘ I think I shall begin by looking over your exercises, and giving you double black marks for everything. We need not have come up-stairs so early but tor that pretty habit ot yours ; and for my part I would rather listen to the music than to a little girl storming. Oh, yes, my dear, I know you are taller than 1 am, but that makes no difference. Be quiet; we can hear it mounting up now that I’ve opened the window a little. Ah ! bravo ! that was well done.’

‘ Do you really care for that squalling ?’ Julia demanded, with a mixture of wonder and scorn. Janet was standing by the window which she had opened. The schoolroom was over the drawing-room, though on the second floor, and in the quiet of the night Mr Meredith’s fine voice came out like the blast of a silver trumpet. The night was mild and very still, and perhaps Janet’s youthful bosom was still a little fluttered by that sudden surprise which had made her heart beat. She leant a little out, listening, with a natural, self-pity that she was not there, and realisation of the very different fate of Gussy, to whom music and love and all the softness of life were open, while she was sent away out of sight with a naughty child. Janet had far too much strength to give in or permit anyone to see that she suffered from this, nor, indeed, did she suffer more than the vague and momentary sensation of being at a disadvantage. But she leant out to listen with a little wistfulness, impatient of the childish vehemence, and as yet but little awakened to the deeper nature of her unmanageable pupil. This pensive mood, however, was soon to be interrupted. In the very midst of the liquid notes .ascending from below, there came suddenly, as if it rent the air, a wild and wailing cry—the cry as of a spirit in pain. It seemed to Janet to rise almost from her side, close by. She started back from the window and turned round with a scared and terrified exclamatian, • What is that? What is that?’ For a moment it occurred to her that some terrible accident or hurt must have happened to the girl by her side. * I—don’t know,’said Julia, stammering as if she could not get out the words. But she was not terrified as Janet was.” The governess did not notice this at first in her own panic. She ran to the door of Julia’s room, from which direction the sound seemed to come, and flung it open crying ‘ Who is there? Who is there?’ then shut it again in terror of what she might see. ‘ Oh, run and fetch someone '. oh, go and alarm the house, Julia I there must be something dreadful in there.’ ‘ There’s nothing,’ said Julia, ‘ What are you making such a fuss about ? It’s—a boy outside—they make such hideous noises—it’s —’ She stopped, for the same sound was repeated, this time lower and further off’, as it seemed—a cry of pain dropping into a low prolonged wail. Janet rushed to the schoolroom door and out upon the staircase, calling out for help, for someone to come. She was wild with alarm. There was no doubt in her mind that some wretched creature, a madman probably, had got into the rooms. But all was quiet in the house below, the doors all shut, everybody occupied with their own business, singing going on in the drawing-room, talk in the servants’ apartments downstairs—nothing it would seem had been disturbed but Janet alone. ‘ It’s nothing,’ repeated Julia. ‘ < >h, Miss Summerhayes, come back, please, and don’t make a fuss. Mamma is so angry if there’s any fuss made. If 1 go into my room and look all round, and convince you there’s nobody, will that do ? There’s nobody, I know. It’s either a boy passing outside, or it’s an owl or something that lives under the ivy in the wing. Mamma knows. It you ask her to-morrow she’ll tell you ; but, oh, for goodness sake, Miss Summerhayes, don’t make a fuss to-night.’ ‘ Your mother knows? Do you mean that—it has been heard before ?’ ‘ You look as if yon thought it was a ghost, said Julia, who, however, was very pale. ‘ M e have no ghosts in our house. ’ ‘ It was like the cry of a mad creature—it was Jnlia, if it comes again I can’t bear it. It must be some madman who has got in.’ ‘ If it’s a madman he can’t get near us, cried Julia, ‘ for he’s in the wing.’ Janet came back into the schoolroom, still trembling with her fright. She dropped into a chair, unable to support herself. ‘ You know—you know what it is,’ she said, faintly. ‘I know—it’s something in the wing. It does no harm. Sometimes it will cry like that—oh, once in a year, perhaps. It can’t do any harm. Oh, Miss Summerhayes, do be reasonable when I tell you. What does it matter? I don’t know what you mean, to be so taken up with squalling and shouting like that, and in such a state when you hear a cry. I don’t care either for one or the other,’ Julia said. It cannot be said that Janet showed much interest in the ‘ squalling and shouting ’ of which her pupil was so contemptuous after this. The two changed their ro/cs completely for the rest of the evening, during which Julia, though not without a titter for her companion’s weakness,

soothed and patronised Miss Summerhayes, and addressed to her many philosophical admonitions which naturally were much more self-eonfident even than the exhortations of Janet, which in themselves were by no means deficient in the certainty of youth. ‘ What can it matter to us,’ said Julia, ‘ what a noise is?—unless you happen to like noises which people make, squalling at the top of their voices and call music. A noise can’t hurt you ; it can't do you any harm. You hear it, and that’s all —especially when its only like a voice. lam not fond of thunder, myself, for a thunderbolt might it might fall on the house or crush you ; but a cry —what does it matter? People are always crying out, or making some nasty noise. You should pay no attention to it. I never pay any attention ; it is not worth while. Why, you might spend your life thinking of such things," said Julia, •if you were to lie disturlied by every sound you hear.’ ThLs discourse did not satisfy Janet or even calm her mind, but she reflected after a while that it was not the part of a governess to put visionary terrors into the mind of her pupil, and so far recovered herself with an effort sis to satisfy Julia that it was safe to go to bed and leave Miss Summerhayes. Poor little Janet, when left alone, felt for the first time how terrible it was to be so young, so impressionable, and among strangers. She dared not run downstairs, as a girl at home would, to shake off' her terrors by confiding them to some one who could authoritatively calm and reassure her. Mrs Harwood had been very kind to her governess, but to go down again after she had been dismissed, to meet Gussy’s astonished turning round from the piano, and the mother’s suspicious glance which would ask what she wanted, why she came—was impossible to Janet. She felt to-night, for the first time, what it was to be a governess, although to night, for almost the first time, she had realised what she had expected when she came out into the world, how amusing it was to watch a story going on. How- soon had all interest in the stoiy disappeared from her mind in face of this terror which froze her very blood. What was it ?—was it a spirit or a living creature in pain ? Where was it?—in this tranquil house, as Julia seemed to allow ? And worst and most dreadful question of all—would it come again ? This last thought was the one that kept all her faculties awake. Might it at any moment burstonce more out of the quiet ? Janet thought that if she bad to undergo that moment of horror again she must go mad or die. She was afraid to go to bed —afraid to close her eyes—lest she should be awakened by that cry. The singing went on )ate downstairs, and Janet listened anxiously to the departing of the visitor, the bolting of the door behind him, the little bustle as Mi's Harwood w-as wheeled to her room on the ground floor, and Gussy came upstairs. But she did not come as far as the schoolroom, which she sometimes did to see if all was well. It was too late to disturb anyone—to wake up the sleepers. Janet beard Miss Harwood come upstairs singing softly over to herself her part in one of the duets. Gussy was happy ;no alarm or sense of desolation was in her. ‘lf I were happy like that I would come upstairs to see how the poor little governess, all alone, was getting on,’ Janet said to herself, opening her eyes in the dark. But indeed she would have done nothing of the kind. She would have been peihaps more indifferent than Gussy was to thegoverness in causeless trouble, feeling ‘ out of it ’ — or else in a visionary panic thinking that she had heard a ghost. The night wore away gradually, and nothing happened. When it was between three and four Janet, worn out, fell fast asleep. She slept till the breakfast bell rang, and had to hurry her dressing and hasten downstairs with an apology, wondering at herself and her own foolish terror in the red light of the wintry morning. Gussy was very ready, it was evident, to be questioned about last night. She began herself by expressing her distress that Janet had been hastened away for ‘that child,’and narrated to her with subdued triumph how many ‘things’ Mr Meredith and she had gone through, and what good practice it was. ‘ The Harwoods generally are so unmusical,’Gussy said ; ‘I never did get any encouragement at home. But fortunately mamma likes Charley, and he may do what he p’eases. Ido enjoy a musical evening so. Hasn’t he a delicious, voice ?’ ‘ It is a charming voice," said Janet. ‘ And he is so well trained. To sing with him it is like getting a lesson. He wanted to know whether you were musical, but I said I feared ’ ‘ I used to be thought pretty good for accompaniments,’ said Janet. ‘ Oh, really '.’ but Gussy did not receive this statement with much delight. ‘ Perhaps you’ll help me to practise my part,' she said, and returned to sound the praises of Charley. •Janet would not introduce the subject of her own terrors, and if she had been ever so intent upon doing so, there was no opportunity, for Charley and his songsand bis perfections left no room for any other discourse. And when Mrs Harwood appeared matters were not much better. The old lady remarked that Janet was pale, and feared that she had not been able to sleep for the singing. ‘ The fact is that Mr Meredith has not been in London for a long time, and I could not cut them short, could I, the first night?’ To describe the impatience with which Janet heard all this would not be easy. She said to herself, what was Mr Meredith to her? What were his songs, his attentions, the grief of his absence, the joy of his return ? She listened with a great eagerness to intenupt, to break through this eternal burden of the self-occupied to whom their own little affairs were everything, with her own questions. But when Mrs Harwood’s voice stopped Janet did not find hers. What could she say? ‘I heard a dreadful cry last night. What was it? You know what it was'.’ It seemed to her when she turned this question in her mind that it was a thing impossible to say. ‘ I heard—but night,’ she began ‘ Ah, the singing !' cried both the ladies together. • I hope it did not keep you from your sleep, my dear,’ said Mrs Harwood. And • I’m sure you could not hear me, and Charley’s voice is always a pleasure,’ cried Gussy. Janet’s mouth was closed, and she could say no more. (TO BE CONTINUED.!

As young Smithers moved out the card table, he asked, casually, ‘ Where is the bright red table cover you used to have? I always liked that. ’ ‘ You wouldn't like it now,’ interposed little Tommy. ‘ Tommy,’said his sister Clara, ‘ run away and play ; there’s a dear.’ • 1 won t, answered Tommy. ’ ‘ Sister’s— —’ *Sh, Tommy, hush.’ ‘Won’t,' answered Tommy again. And as he was hustled from the room he veiled • Sister’s made a petticoat out of that tablecloth. ’