"One of our pupils," said Mrs Blunt, in her most polite tones. "Mrs Campanelle Brassey--Miss Bozerne. Young and high-spirited, you see," she continued, smiling benignantly upon me, just in the way that she had done when mamma was with me, and never since. "Young, happy, and light-hearted. Just at that age when life has no cares,"--couldn't I have pinched her. "She adores melody--quite a daughter of the Muses." "Charming gyirl," said the lady, smiling. "Sweetly featured--so gazelle-eyed. Most unaccountably like my Euphemia." "Indeed!" said Mrs Blunt. "How singular! They will, no doubt, be like sisters." "Charming for Euphemia, to be sure," said Mrs Campanelle Brassey. "It will make the change from home so pleasant, and she will not pine." "No fear of that," said Mrs Blunt--"ours is too home-like an abode." "No doubt," said Mrs Campanelle Brassey. "And then there is that other charming gyirl--the one with the sweet, high-spirited features--the one you just now showed me. Lady--Lady--Lady Somebody's daughter." "Lady Fitzacre's," said Mrs Blunt. "To be sure," said Mrs Campanelle Brassey. "Why, your establishment will be most enviable, Mrs Fortesquieu de Blount; for I'm sure that you will have the Three Graces within your walls." "Oh, fie!" exclaimed Mrs Blunt, playfully; "you are bringing quite a blush to the face of our young friend." My cheeks certainly were tingling, but it was only to hear them talk such twaddle; and I knew well enough now that they must have been looking on for some time, while Mrs Blunt only let me keep on strumming to show off before the visitor; for if it had been one of the girls who played badly, she would have been snubbed and sent off in a hurry for practising out of her turn. For a moment, though, I felt a pang shoot through me--a jealous pang--as I thought that, if this new pupil came, she might bear off from me my Achille; while the next moment I was ready to laugh scornfully from the recollection that I had no Achille, that he was already another's, that men were all false and deceivers, and that I could now turn satirical, and sympathise with Clara. However, I showed none of the painful emotions sweeping through my breast, but took all in good part, and allowed Mrs Campanelle Brassey to tap me with her eyeglass, and kiss me on the cheek, which kiss was, after all, only a peck with her hooky nose; and then she must take what she called a fancy to me, and march me about with them all over the place, and call me "My love," and "My sweet child," and all that sort of stuff, when she was seeing me now for the first time; but, if I had been the most amiable of girls, but plain, like Grace Murray, instead of showy and dashing, she would not have taken the least mite of notice of me. Yes: really, this is a dreadfully hypocritical world!