"Let me add a word to what I recently said about Miss Brunel. It is _your_ interest to forward _my_ interest, as you will discover. Now, I am afraid you are treating her with so much mistaken kindness that she will get to consider the position of governess pleasant. This is misleading her. She will only suffer for it afterwards. Nothing like wholesome severity at the time—nothing. Hubert Anerley came to me and asked me to lend him some money and let him off a bargain about my brougham and a pair of horses. Did I? I knew it would only delude him with absurd hopes, and I said no; and so he accepted his fate, and I suppose has set about repairing a fortune lost by his own carelessness. That’s _my_ way, Jack; and you’re too kind to the girl. Get Jane to try some wholesome severity—to teach her what a governess is—frighten her—threaten to turn her out without a character, or something of the sort. Anything, so she is made to understand how insecure her position is. You understand? Then I step in, and our family becomes one of the richest in England. What do you say to that? Do it at once—and firmly. It will be better to be done _decisively—very decisively—and soon_. "Your affectionate brother, "FRED. v. SCHÖNSTEIN." Frederick von Schönstein should have seen his brother’s face when that letter arrived. It was not an expressive face; but on this occasion there were several emotions clearly visible in it, and they were not of a mournful kind. Indeed, John Hubbard looked upon this letter as worth thousands of pounds to him. It was the key of the position. He showed it to his wife. "What a brute!" she said, "to think of harming the poor girl. I have never liked your brother, my dear, since he began to try to entrap this girl, but now I am beginning to hate him." And doubtless Mrs. Hubbard imagined, quite honestly, that it was merely compassion for her charming and unprotected governess which provoked her mild wrath and contempt. "Fred’s a fool, my dear, or he wouldn’t have written that letter." "Why?" "Don’t you see?" observed the husband, proud of his superior masculine perspicacity; "whenever he seeks to interfere with her, or with our relations towards her, we have only to show her this letter, and I think that will considerably cook his goose." It was not often that the meek and proper brother of the Count was tempted into slang; but on this great occasion, when a lucky chance had delivered everything into his hands, he could not forbear. Count Schönstein never waited for that course of severity which was to render Annie Brunel an easy capture. His solitary life at Balnacluith House was becoming more and more unbearable; and so, at length, he resolved to precipitate matters.