“Oh, how lovely it all is--the flowers!” she exclaimed. “I didn't know that there was any place in the world so beautiful as this! I should like to stay here for ever!” “But have you never been in the country before?” said the other with some surprise. “Yes. Only once, for a few days, years ago. But it was not like this. It was very beautiful in Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, but this--” She could find no words to express her feeling; she could only stand gazing up, and touching the white and pink clustering blossoms with her finger-tips, as if they were living things to be gently caressed. “Oh, it is so sweet,” she resumed. “I have always so wished to be in the country, but before Miss Starbrow took me to live with her, and before--they--mother died, we lived in a very poor street, and were always so poor and--” Then she reddened and cast down her eyes and was silent, for she had suddenly remembered that Miss Starbrow had warned her never to speak of her past life. Miss Churton smiled slightly, but with a strange tenderness in her eyes as she watched the girl's face. “I hope we shall get on well together, and that you will like me a little,” she said. “Oh, yes, I know I shall like you if--if you will not think me very stupid. I know so little, and you know so much. Must you always call me Miss Affleck?” “Not if you would prefer me to call you Frances. I should like that better.” “That would seem so strange, Miss Churton. I have always been called Fan.” Just then the others were seen coming out to the garden, and Miss Churton and Fan went back to meet them. Mr. Churton, polite and bare-headed, hovered about his visitor, smiling, gesticulating, chattering, while she answered only in monosyllables, and was blacker-browed than ever. Mrs. Churton, silent and pale, walked at her side, turning from time to time a troubled look at the dark proud face, and wondering what its stormy expression might mean. “Fan,” said Miss Starbrow, without even a glance at the lady at Fan's side, “my time is nearly up, and I wish to have three or four minutes alone with you before saying good-bye.” The others at once withdrew, going back to the house, while Miss Starbrow sat down on a garden bench and drew the girl to her side. “Well, my child, what do you think of your new teacher?” she began. “I like her so much, Mary, I'm sure--I know she will be very kind to me; and is she not beautiful?” “I am not going to talk about that, Fan. I haven't time. But I want to say something very serious to you. You know, my girl, that when I took you out of such a sad, miserable life to make you happy, I said that it was not from charity, and because I loved my fellow-creatures or the poor better than others; but solely because I wanted you to love me, and your affection was all the payment I ever expected or expect. But now I foresee that something will happen to make a change in you--” “I can never change, or love you less than now, Mary!”