"Miss Strickland, why torture me thus? Think you that the change in my position has changed my feelings, my heart, my very nature? Think you I am a stone, or my heart dead within me, that I can stand calmly by, and hear such cutting cruel words from you, and not feel them bitterly? How could I look into your face the other day, or listen to your words, and not feel that you were judging me harshly; it was not possible, neither is it possible I can go on in my daily path of duty, until at least I have attempted to clear myself of the wrong I see you think me capable of. I have lived to see my fairest dreams vanish, and have bowed with submission to the will of One who is wiser then I,--have neither murmured nor fought against the burden God has seen fit to cast upon me, though it has been, nay, is, heavy and severe; and though my spirit has been sad and weary, cast down almost to the dust, yet I have had strength given me to fight against all repining, unthankful thoughts, and although not perhaps exactly satisfied with my lot in life, still I know it might be much worse; that many others suffer more than I do." And Amy's voice sank almost to a whisper, still and low. But Frances was in no way moved by it, and replied as hardly and tauntingly as before-- "Go on, pray, Miss Neville, or is this all you have to say?" "All? Ah, no! I could talk for ever. My feelings have been pent up--kept back for days, weeks, months past. You have loosened them, and they must have sway. I cannot restrain them now. Oh, if you had ever felt as I have felt, you could never sit there so indifferently, and not feel some pity for me; have I not been as tenderly and delicately nurtured? as much love lavished on me? and yet it is all past and gone, and I am alone in the world. There is comfort in once again being able to talk--to tell of all that is binding my heart so tightly--burning my brain. I have shed tears, but they have brought no relief. I have pictured to myself happier days, such days of love and peace, but they have vanished from before me. I have dreamt pleasant dreams, but with the morning sun they too have disappeared, and all is cold, stern reality. Oh, I could talk for ever if I thought it would move you to think better of me." "You have my free permission to do so if this is what you come to ask; only you must excuse my being a careless or inattentive listener, as really your conversation interests me so little." "And are you so strangely devoid of pity, then, or is it because you do not think me worth any? Alas! alas! when rich I was courted, flattered, and even loved; now, as the poor governess, I am despised and deserted," and again Amy's voice was low and plaintive.