No change of color nor voice showed that she felt the scrutiny, and in a calm tone she went on: “I know so little of these things that I do not know, if my dear brother were made an officer to-morrow, whether his want of private fortune would prevent his acceptance of the rank, but there surely must be steps of advancement open to men poor as he is.” “You may trust all to me,” interrupted Dunn. “Once that you consider me as your guardian, I will neglect nothing that concerns you.” “Oh, how have I deserved such kindness!” cried she, trying to smother her emotion. “You must call me your guardian, too, and write to me as such. The world is of such a temper that it will serve you to be thought my ward. Even Lady Augusta Arden herself will feel the force of it.” There was a kind of rude energy in the way these last words were uttered that gave them a character almost defiant. “You are, then, decided that I ought to take the situation?” said she. And already her manner had assumed the deference of one seeking direction. “Yes, for the present it is all that could be desired. There will be no necessity of your continuing there if it should ever be irksome to you. Upon this, as upon all else, I trust you will communicate freely with me.” “I should approach an actual duty--a task--with far more confidence than I feel in offering to accommodate myself to the ways and tempers of utter strangers.” “Very true,” said he; “but when I have told you about them they will be strangers no longer. People are easily comprehended who have certain strong ruling passions. They have only one, and that the very simplest of all motives,--pride. Let me tell you of them.” And so he drew his chair to her side, and began to describe the Ardens. We do not ask the reader to follow Davenport Dunn in his sketch; enough that we say his picture was more truthful than flattering, for he portrayed traits that had often given him offence and suffering. He tried to speak with a sort of disinterested coldness,--a kind of half-pitying indifference about “ways and notions” that people estranged from “much intercourse with the world _will_ fall into;” but his tone was, in spite of himself, severe and resentful, and scarcely compensated by his concluding words, “though, of course, to _you_ they will be amiable and obliging.” “How I wish I could see them, though only for a minute!” said she, as he finished. “Have you such confidence, then, in your power of detecting character at sight?” asked he, with a keen and furtive glance. “My gift is generally enough for my own guidance,” said she, frankly; “but, to be sure, it has only been exercised amongst the country people, and they have fewer disguises than those we call their betters.”