"Miss Johnstone's uncle is at the Lion d'Or, and she has asked me to dinner there. We are to dine at the table d'hôte." "The Lion d'Or!" cried Emily, turning round. "What a chance! to have that sharp-sighted duenna, Peg, dining at table with us!" "What, do you—do the Treherns dine at the table d'hôte?" "Where else should they dine? The hotel is too full, just now, to admit of private dinners." Mr. Johnstone came for us, and we walked about, looking at the old town, until six o'clock, the dinner hour. A novel scene to me was that crowded dining-room, with its array of company, of waiters, and of good cheer; so novel that for some time I did not notice four seats, immediately opposite to us, quite vacant. All eyes were raised at the four who came in to fill them. Mr. and Mrs. Trehern; she dressed elaborately, perfectly; not a fold of her robe out of place, not a hair of her many braids; Alfred de Mellissie, with his airs of a petit maître, but good-looking enough; and Emily Chandos, with her gay and sparkling beauty. "Just look there, Miss Hereford! Do you see that?" Miss Johnstone's words were spoken in a low tone of consternation. I _would not_ understand to whom she alluded. "See what, Miss Johnstone?" "Miss Chandos," she answered, devouring Emily with her eyes. "I wonder if the Demoiselles Barlieu know that while she has been pretending to visit the Treherns, it has been a cloak for her meeting that Frenchman?" "Oh, Miss Johnstone! she _has_ visited the Treherns? "I can see through a mill-stone," was Miss Johnstone's cold answer. Never were more defiant looks cast upon a governess than Emily Chandos threw over the table at Miss Johnstone. That the latter provoked them by her manner there was no doubt. I think—I always had thought—that she was envious of Miss Chandos, though whence or why the feeling should have arisen I cannot say. They were the most distinguished group at table, Mr. Trehern—a fine, big, burly Cornishman—and his wife, Monsieur de Mellissie and Emily: and the waiters treated them with marked distinction. Even the appurtenances of their dinner were superior, for none others within the range of my view ventured upon sparkling Moselle and ice. They rose from table earlier than many, Emily throwing me a laughing nod, as she took Mr. Trehern's arm, Alfred de Mellissie following with Mrs. Trehern; but not vouchsafing the slightest notice of Miss Johnstone. "She may take her leave of it," I heard the latter whisper to herself. Mr. Johnstone did not mend the matter, or his niece's temper. "What a lovely girl that is!" he exclaimed. "She is English." "Yes," answered Miss Johnstone, her lips parting with acrimony. "She is one of my pupils." "One of your pupils! How is it she took no notice of you?" Miss Johnstone made no reply, but the acrimony on her lips grew sharper: very sharp indeed when she saw Emily escorted home by M. de Mellissie, with Mrs. Trehern's maid in attendance.