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Leaning back in her place, Cecil spent her time during the journey in speculations as to the situation found for her. Was she to be principal of some newly-founded High School, where the extent and freshness of her acquirements would counterbalance the defects of her youth and comparative inexperience? Or was she to be governess in a private family, possibly on the Continent, possibly in some stately English home, where she would be treated with frigid courtesy, and shunned and criticised as a “learned lady”? She sighed as she revolved these possibilities in her mind, and wished once more that she might have remained at home. But regrets were vain, the train was nearing Victoria, and on the platform stood Miss Arbuthnot, to whom Mr Anstruther had telegraphed from Whitcliffe that Cecil was on her way.

“I am glad you have come at once, Cecil,” she said, as they left the station in a cab, “for I can give you a rare treat for to-night. What do you think of tickets for both of us for the Conversazione at Burlington House, to meet all the great people?”