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I suppose I ought to have been a man. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. The Morning Post was hungry for governesses and nursery governesses, but held out no other hopes; the Daily Telegraph that morning seemed eager only for skirt hands. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. "What is it?" "The night," she answered. Cathy threw Mike a look. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. Anna felt that her words had become charged with a fuller and more subtle meaning than any which she had intended to impart. " Romance! The Seven Seas are hers. Tell me, Sir," he added, advancing towards the knight, "tell me has this man spoken falsely?— Tell me my mother is alive, and do what you please with me. Fifty sent home. That was the glorious if bewildering truth.

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