Mrs. Evans blushed, for that name was doubly objectionable, and she was most anxious that the fact of her having been Miss Smittles, the daughter of a notoriously unscrupulous speculator, should be forgotten. She said no more about giving up her present surname. "Do you think," asked Augusta, "that the Mrs. Caruth my cousin spoke of could be the lady, whom we met with her son at Mentone last winter! They were delightful people—so refined, and knew everybody that was worth knowing there, and numbers of people we should like to meet here. You remember he had come back invalided from the Soudan, and though he was quite young, about thirty, he had gained great distinction. He was Major Caruth, I think, and his name must have been Alexander, for his mother called him 'Alec.' Everyone liked them both, but we used to think him just a little reserved." "I thought him extremely polite—quite a model of courtesy, in fact." "Well, yes, he was, and especially to the elder ladies; but he never showed any marked attention to any of the younger ones. He was the most devoted son possible, and it was quite beautiful to see the manner in which he looked up in his mother's face when she came to his side with that inquiring glance on hers." "He had nearly died, and he was all she had," replied Mrs. Evans. "Heir to a fine property, I believe. I scarcely think that Mrs. Caruth could be the one Joyce mentioned. Was it likely there would be any intimacy between the daughter of a poor country clergyman and people of position like those Caruths?" "I do not know. You see, clergymen go everywhere." "But not always their wives and daughters," said Mrs. Evans. "Did you notice the name of the place Joyce's friend lived at? I have the address of those we met at Mentone; it was Ferns—something—crag, probably." "Was it Fernsclough?" said Augusta, eagerly. "I really believe it was." "Then the lady is the same. Her place is Fernsclough, Salop." "Well, what of that? Her giving Joyce a character to go out as children's maid puts away the suggestion of intimacy at once. She might do that, and never speak to or communicate again with one who was disgracing herself by taking a sort of servant's place." "Joyce said that Mrs. Caruth wanted her to go to Fernsclough for an indefinite time." "Perhaps that was an invention, in order to raise herself in our eyes, my dear child. I have seen more of life and character than you have, Augusta." "I can hardly think that," replied the girl; "I could not imagine Joyce saying an untrue word. She is not that sort of girl. And, mamma, she is my cousin and a lady, though she is not rich. I cannot help feeling sorry for her. If these friends of hers should turn out to be the Caruths we met, and at some future time we should see them again, what will they think of us for letting Joyce go?"