The son and daughter of the first marriage had soon put themselves out of her reach, and were causes of increased difficulty and trouble. She had no reason to believe home-life desirable for Amethyst, or to regret having removed her from its influence. The younger sisters were not so brought up as to make her think the mother--whose right over her child must needs be recognised--a wise guide for a beautiful girl. A kindly woman, without much strength of purpose, she had, spite of later influences, never quite outgrown the code of her youth, and it had never occurred to her as possible that her brother's daughter should not be "introduced" at eighteen in London, as she herself had been. She had felt it a duty, now that she could not herself give the girl this advantage, to let her have what opportunities her parents could give her. And, though this interview showed her how much her standard had changed from that of her family, though she felt many misgivings as to the future, though she could not respect or trust her brother, even while she had never ceased to feel a fondness for him, she had not courage to fight the battle out; and when she finally consented to go with him to Cleverley to consult "my lady," she knew quite well that she had put the decision out of her own hands, and that Amethyst would enter on grown-up life under her mother's auspices. CHAPTER TWO. IN THE SHADE. Two days later, Miss Haredale came back from her visit to Cleverley, and reached her pretty cottage at Silverfold with a sad heart and many misgivings. How gay the garden was, with its spring flowers, how successful her hyacinths and tulips, how comfortable her little drawing-room as she sat down by the fire! There would be no more little floral triumphs for her now, the cheerful home would be beyond her means, and her peaceful, useful life in it must be given up. And Amethyst, who had been at her school during her aunt's absence, had still to be told of what had happened, of the new life in store for her. How could the fond aunt bring herself to tell her darling that their life together must end? A rapid footfall came along the garden and across the hall, and Amethyst burst into the room. "Auntie, auntie! The list has come from Cambridge.--And what do you think?" As she dropped on her knees on the rug at her aunt's feet, waving a pamphlet before her eyes, Miss Haredale looked at her, but in a preoccupied, inattentive way. "What list, my dear?" "What list, auntie! Why, the Cambridge Examination list, of course. And I'm in it! And I have a class--a second class; and, auntie--I'm `distinguished in literature.' There! Oh the relief to one's mind! Did you ever know anything so delightful?"