She walked with an unusually brisk tread, and her face looked less lined and tired than usual. The brilliant morning had evidently its effect upon her as well as on the younger members of the household, and so amiable did she appear that the girls went on with their rhapsodies undeterred by her presence. They laughed, and chattered, and joked in overflowing spirits, and when Lady Sarah found a chance to put in a question about the scene of the day's excursion there was a race to see who could answer first, and use the greatest number of superlatives in doing so. "A pretty place?--Oh, exquisite! The most beautiful little village that was ever seen! A river?--Yes, indeed, the prettiest river in the world, splashing over rocks, and with the sweetest little shady paths on either side! An inn?--Rather! Like an inn in a picture--oak walls, and blue china in corner cupboards. Walks?--Everywhere! In every direction?-- Impossible to take a wrong turning where every step of the country was beautiful!" After these rhapsodies had continued for several moments Lady Sarah's face began to assume an expression of curiosity, and she glanced out of the window from time to time, as if mentally considering some question. "I am not quite sure about the day, the clouds look low. If it were more settled I really think I should like to come with you myself instead of Miss Turner." Had a bomb-shell suddenly exploded in the room its occupants could hardly have been more bewildered than they were by the utterance of these few, quietly-spoken words, "I should like to go with you myself." The girls held their breath, and felt stupefied with horror. They had never dreamt that this would be the result of their ecstatic description; they had imagined that the subject of a chaperone was settled once for all, and it was a terrible awakening. Bertha was the first to recover her composure. She had a strong consciousness of the importance of her position as the Dean's eldest daughter, and in her mother's absence was determined not to shirk her responsibility. "But--but, Lady Sarah, Miss Turner has been asked. Mother has written to Mrs Newland. Do you think it would do to alter the arrangement?" she asked earnestly, and Lady Sarah tossed her head in derision. "My dear child, what nonsense you talk! I think Mrs Newland would have little hesitation in accepting me in Miss Turner's place; I would explain it to her myself." "But we go for a walk in the afternoon, a long walk. You would be terribly tired." "Nothing of the sort. I am not quite paralysed yet. Say no more on that score, if you please. I am able and willing, and shall be glad of the chance of seeing the place; but, of course if you prefer the governess--" What could be said in answer to such a question as this? The usages of polite society forbidding a candid avowal of the truth, Bertha could only protest feebly in a weak, broken-spirited voice.