Dean drew back amazed, yet not convinced. Being a well-trained servant, as well as a prudent woman, she feared to overstep the bounds of respect, to go too far, and get her mistress as well as herself into trouble. So, though she still doubted Jean, and hated her more than ever, she controlled herself. Dropping a curtsy, she assumed her usual air of deference, and said, meekly, “I beg pardon, miss. If I’d known, I should have conducted myself differently, of course, but ordinary governesses make so much mischief in a house, one can’t help mistrusting them. I don’t wish to meddle or be overbold, but being fond of my dear young lady, I naturally take her part, and must say that Mr. Coventry has not acted like a gentleman.” “Think what you please, Dean, but I advise you to say as little as possible if you wish to remain. I have not accepted Mr. Coventry yet, and if he chooses to set aside the engagement his family made for him, I think he has a right to do so. Miss Beaufort would hardly care to marry him against his will, because he pities her for her unhappy love,” and with a tranquil smile, Miss Muir walked away. _Chapter VII_ THE LAST CHANCE “She will tell Sir John, will she? Then I must be before her, and hasten events. It will be as well to have all sure before there can be any danger. My poor Dean, you are no match for me, but you may prove annoying, nevertheless.” These thoughts passed through Miss Muir’s mind as she went down the hall, pausing an instant at the library door, for the murmur of voices was heard. She caught no word, and had only time for an instant’s pause as Dean’s heavy step followed her. Turning, Jean drew a chair before the door, and, beckoning to the woman, she said, smiling still, “Sit here and play watchdog. I am going to Miss Bella, so you can nod if you will.” “Thank you, miss. I will wait for my young lady. She may need me when this hard time is over.” And Dean seated herself with a resolute face. Jean laughed and went on; but her eyes gleamed with sudden malice, and she glanced over her shoulder with an expression which boded ill for the faithful old servant. “I’ve got a letter from Ned, and here is a tiny note for you,” cried Bella as Jean entered the boudoir. “Mine is a very odd, hasty letter, with no news in it, but his meeting with Sydney. I hope yours is better, or it won’t be very satisfactory.” As Sydney’s name passed Bella’s lips, all the color died out of Miss Muir’s face, and the note shook with the tremor of her hand. Her very lips were white, but she said calmly, “Thank you. As you are busy, I’ll go and read my letter on the lawn.” And before Bella could speak, she was gone. Hurrying to a quiet nook, Jean tore open the note and read the few blotted lines it contained.