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“How I wish Sybil were to be my only pupil!” thought Marion, as she walked home, “though Lotty seems a frank sort of child. But I am sure she is dreadfully spoilt. I can’t make up my mind about Miss Vyse. How very handsome she is, and yet I don’t think I like her. I wonder if I should have liked her better had we met as equals, instead of my being a governess. I wonder how she and Sir Ralph get on.”

And so she wondered on till she got home, and then amused Cissy by her morning’s adventures. Mrs. Archer had never heard of Miss Vyse, and from Marion’s description of her felt curious to see her. She readily agreed to join Lady Severn’s party to Berlet, and evidently was beginning to think better of her cousin’s masquerade, as she called it; seeing that its results so far, had been by no means disastrous. That afternoon and the next brought quite an influx of visitors to Mrs. Archer’s pretty little drawing-room. Mrs. Fraser, who proved on further acquaintance to be really an intelligent and agreeable woman. Mrs. and Miss Bailey, the former a good motherly creature, and the latter a pretty childish girl, incapable of inspiring, very vehement feelings of any kind. Her chronic insipidity was increased at the present time by her imagining herself to be the victim of unrequited affection, in which melancholy condition she fancied it suitable and becoming to sit with her head on one side, staring before her in a vacant and slightly imbecilic manner. She took it into her head to form a sudden and vehement friendship for Miss Freer, who was rather puzzled by her at first, not being behind the scenes of the silly Dora’s heart. Marion’s want of responsiveness, however, did not appear to chill her in the least. She grew more and more communicative, and by the end of the half hour’s visit had all but confided to her patient listener the name of her cold-hearted hero. Fortunately Mrs. Bailey rose to go before this juncture; greatly to Marion’s relief, for her experience of the gushing order of young ladies had been extremely limited. Friday brought the Berwick family en masse with the exception, that is to say, of the invalid, Blanche. Major Berwick was an old Indian, which expresses a good deal. His wife was sharp and fussy, and evidently perfectly ready to gossip on the smallest provocation. Sophy, a rough and ready sort of girl, impressed Marion rather more favourably than the rest of the family. Her strong affection for her brother, “Frank,” the good-looking young officer of the table d’hôte party, inclined Marion’s sisterly heart towards her. Before the end of the visit, Captain Berwick himself appeared. He was full of the adventures and amusement they had met with in their mountain expedition, which, he declared, had turned out famously.