We neither of us saw Augusta again until the next morning, and then there was a marvellous change in her. She did not tell us what had caused it. To begin with, she was neatly dressed; to follow, she ate an excellent breakfast; and again, wonder of wonders! she applied herself with extreme and passionate diligence to her French and German lessons. She looked up when her mistress spoke; she no longer indulged in silence broken only by rhapsodies of passionate snatches of verse from her favourite authors. She was altogether a changed Augusta. I did not say a word to her on the subject, and I cautioned Hermione not to breathe what I had done. "If she thinks father has written to her on his own account the spell will work, and she will be saved," I said. It was not until a fortnight later that Augusta said to me in a very gentle tone, "I see daylight. How very naughty I was when I first came! How badly I did behave! But now a guiding hand has been stretched out, and I know what I am expected to do." I jumped up and kissed her. "I am glad," I said. "You cannot be as glad as I am," she answered; and she took both my hands in one of hers and looked into my face, while tears rose to her bright, rather sunken eyes. "To think that _he_ should take the trouble to write!" I ran away. I did not want to be unkind, and truly did not mean to; but Augusta's manner, notwithstanding the reform in her character, was almost past bearing. "Poor, dear old father!" I said afterwards to Hermione, "he can little realise what a fearful responsibility he has in life--the whole of Augusta's future--and just because he is a clever lecturer. I really cannot understand it." "Nor I," said Hermione. "I myself think his speeches are rather dull; but I suppose I have a different order of mind." I remember quite well that on that occasion we girls were permitted to go for a delightful walk into the Bois de Boulogne. We went, of course, with some of the governesses; but when we got there we were allowed a certain amount of freedom--for instance, we could choose our own companions and walk with whom we pleased. We were just leaving the house on this occasion when Comtesse Riki came up to me and asked if I would walk with her. I acceded at once, although I had hoped for a long walk with Hermione, as I had received a budget of home news on that day, and I wanted to talk it over with her; last, but not least, there had come a voluminous letter from Lilian St Leger. It was a little provoking, but Riki's very pretty blue eyes, her pathetic mouth, and sweet smile conquered. At the same instant Baroness Elfreda flew up to Hermione and tucked her podgy hand inside the girl's arm. "I couldn't walk with you, Dumps," she said, "for a dumpy girl couldn't walk with another dumpy girl--so I want to be your friend, a sweet, slight, graceful English girl."