“Weren’t they kind to you?” “I don’t know.” Isabel rose and walked about the room. The little creature was loathsome to her. “Do you like the toys I’ve got for you?” was her next question from a distance. “I don’t care for toys.” There was another silence. “Would you rather sit here with me, or be up in your own room?” “Rather be upstairs.” “Then I’ll take you. Will you go hand-in-hand with me?” She led the child back to the room which had been made into a nursery, and where there were dolls, and bricks, and other things of the kind supposed to be delightful to children. “Wouldn’t you like to dress this nice doll?” Isabel asked, taking up one of the unclad abortions. “No.” “Have you been to school yet, Ada?” “Yes.” “And can you read?” “Yes.” Isabel tested her, and found that the reply had been accurate; but for the ear-jarring pronunciation, the reading was remarkable for a child of seven. A person answering to the description of nursery-governess had been found for the child, and to her care Ada was for a long time almost exclusively left. Isabel went into the nursery daily and spoke a few words. More than this she could not do, her soul was in revolt. She did not quit Knightswell throughout the summer, but in September she went with friends to the south coast. On her return she paid an early visit to the nursery. It was afternoon, and darkness was gathering. Ada was lying on the floor asleep, a book which she had been reading lying beside her. Isabel knelt down and looked at the child, whose face was still almost haggard, and had an expression of suffering beyond her years. “You poor, poor thing!” she said to herself, pitying at last, though she could not do more. “I will try hard to do my duty by you. You will never love me, and will think meanly enough of me some day.” As Ada grew older, the extreme sullenness, which seemed to be her disposition, wore off a little. She was outwardly civilised, she learned to speak the English of refinement, she made for herself all manner of interests, none of them very childlike; and to Mrs. Clarendon she assumed the demeanour which was to persist, with very slight alteration, from that time onwards. When she was ten years old Isabel engaged a better governess for her. It became evident that the girl had brains. She showed, too, a pronounced faculty for drawing; a teacher accordingly came over once a week from the nearest town. At the age of fourteen she for the first time accompanied Mrs. Clarendon to London, and stayed with her there for the couple of months which were all that Isabel permitted herself that year. Ada had her own rooms, and only saw Isabel’s most intimate acquaintances; her time was chiefly devoted to lessons of various kinds.