case, and passed my fingers fondly over the precious volumes. While thus engaged, an arm was thrown about my waist, and Mildred Forrester's lips touched my cheek. In a moment I comprehended all. How delicate and unlooked for was this kindness.

"And so you were the good fairy," I said. "I had begun to believe myself the victim of enchantment, Miss Forrester."

Oh, I assure you, it was not all my doing," she rejoined, smiling. "Somebody else suggested it, or it would never have entered my head;" and she made an effort to change the subject.

I thanked her warmly. What I felt, it is impossible to describe. This beginning of my governess life was not so dreary after all. Mildred looked embarrassed by my expressions of gratitude, and drew me away from the bookcase, towards a picture which hung on the other side of the room.

"Besides your own little copy of the 'Descent from the Cross,' which I was fortunate in securing," she said, "I fancied the wall needed. a picture just here, and had this removed

hither. Brother Walworth brought it from Europe for me last year, but I have it so by heart that I can well spare it to you."

We looked at the picture together.

Young Life was represented in the figure of a fair girl, laid in unconscious slumber in a frail pleasure-boat, which was rocked on the waves of a summer sea. A stronged-limbed, tall, and grandly proportioned steersman, Destiny, guided the bark. His eyes were bandaged, and gray locks were lifted by the night wind from a broad and furrowed brow. A little to the right sat a grim, withered, Saturn figure, with his hour-glass and the cycle-representing serpent coiled about his decrepit form; its tail in its own mouth. The painter must have possessed rare skill, for, in the distance, roughening the waves, clouding the moon, and filling the slight sails with a premonitory and strengthening breeze, one was aware of the approach of the spirit of the storm, and became filled with a foreboding of the woe soon to arouse the young Life laid in slumber at the feet of Destiny and Time, dreaming, perchance, of Love, or Fame, or Fortune.

"And now I have to apologize," Mildred said, when I had expressed my admiration of the painting, “for sending for you thus early; but I knew that you would be bored to death in the drawing-room with nobody to talk to, since I am engaged to go out this evening, and papa, mamma, and brother Walworth accompany me. Lolotte is waiting to dress my hair, but I would come and see you at home in your own room first."

I looked at her as she stood with her white wrapper gathered about her tall, slender figure, and thought how lovely she was. Her golden-brown hair had been hurriedly caught up and fastened with a small silver comb, and her exquisite face, flushed and animated, looked out from amid the half looped-up curls. with a perfect and surpassing beauty.

"Belle Mildred! belle et bonne," I said almost involuntarily. It was the first line of a poem composed by our French teacher, on the occasion of Mildred's being crowned Mayqueen. A vivid blush spread over her face, and her violet eyes took a brighter lustre.

"Ah!" she said, "I see you have not for

gotten those old, old times. But Bessie, why do you wear your hair in those plain bands? I beg your pardon, but it makes a perfect Quakeress of you. What have you done with your curls?"

"A governess," I replied," has little time or need for such adornments. I have worn it thus ever since I knew I was to teach."

"How absurd!" she exclaimed, "I am quite vexed at you. But indeed you must wear it in the old style sometimes to please me. Do you remember our drawing-master'sSignor Ilzoni's-penchant for you? The girls used to say he raved about your Madonna face, and hair such as Rubens would have 'loved to catch de sonnelight upon."

She ended with a perfect mimicry of our old drawing-master's manner and expression, but I turned away. There was another who, too, would have been vexed at my wearing my hair thus. Now what change had come.

There was a light tap at the door. Mildred opened it. "I am coming, Lolotte," she said; then turning to me, "Ring the bell, Bessie, if you want anything, and Lolotte or Kitty

+

will answer it. Has your trunk been brought up?"

It had, and she hastened away, for it was growing late. Erelong she reappeared upon my chamber threshold, dressed in gossamer white. The delicate texture floated around her, and seemed to envelop her like a mist, out of which gleamed two fair, jewelled arms stretched towards me.

"One kiss, and good-night, Bessie," she said, and the vision was gone.

There was a slight bustle in the house, then a sound of carriage-wheels, and at last an utter silence. Feeling some fatigue after the day's excitement, I determined to overcome the desire to indulge in a melancholy reverie, which had become a habit of late, and go to bed. I undressed, read my chapter as usual, and knelt, as my nightly custom had ever been, upon the floor before my chair, making it the altar to which I brought confession and petition. But now no words of prayer came to my lips. Thought overcame devotion.

I sought to make a compact with myself. If an accustomed subject, which it goaded