Here was a situation! It was now the Earl’s turn to color; but the artless and innocent May, who had as yet known only a father’s and a brother’s love, did not dream of any other in the present case; on the contrary, she was soothed by the affectionate assurances of the child, and, smiling through her tears, looked up confidingly in the Earl’s face. Charmed with the childlike sweetness of her expression he could not resist taking her hand, with almost paternal tenderness, in his, while May, reassured by the gentleness of his manner, ventured to acknowledge her own ignorance, and to request his assistance in the sketch before them. This, to the delight of all, he willingly consented to give, and when, at two o’clock, the nurse came to take the children to dinner, she found May seated alone at the table, intent on a newly commenced drawing—the Earl leaning over her chair and instructing her in its progress—Julia singing “Love’s Young Dream,” and the three children gone no one knew where. The next day, and the next, the Earl was still to be found in the school-room, sometimes spinning Willie’s top, sometimes reading an Italian author aloud to his daughter and her governess—often sharing the book with the latter, and oftener still, blending his rich and manly voice with hers as she sang to the harp or piano. One day a visiter asked Willie how he liked his new governess? “Oh!” said the boy, “_papa_ is governess now. May is only our sister, and we are all _so_ happy!” Thus passed a year—Julia and May daily improving under their indulgent and unwearied teacher—and imparting in their turn instruction to the younger branches of the family. May had confided to Julia all her little history. She had written often to her father, and had received many letters in return. From one of them she learned, to her great joy and surprise, that Lionel had received his commission from some unknown friend. At the same time, her father advised her, as she had engaged for a year, to be contented until the expiration of it. “Contented!” The last day of the year had arrived—May had lately been so happy that she had forgotten to think of being separated from the family she loved so much. On the morning of the day, the Earl was in his library, Julia making tea, and May on a low ottoman at his feet, reading aloud the morning paper. Suddenly she paused, dropped the paper, and covered her face with her hands. The Earl, alarmed, bent tenderly over her, and Julia was by her side in a moment. “What is it, dear May?” she said. “Oh, the paper—look at the paper, Julia!” The Earl caught it up—“Where—tell me where to look, May?” “At the date—the date!” “The date—it is the first of June—and what then?” “Oh! did I not _come_ the first of June and must I not go to-morrow? I am sure I shall never do for a governess!” and she hid her face on Julia’s shoulder, and wept afresh. The Earl raised her gently—“Perhaps not; but you will do for something else, sweet May!”