friend's daughter now, Mr. Thacker," Daniel looked round with a start, and felt that he had almost forgotten the business part of his purpose. A bow of recognition had passed between Mr. Guyon and Mr. Daniel Thacker, but Robert Streightley had not seen Miss Gould. It had not been her intention that he should see her; her purpose was to observe him closely, and she had effected it. She was no more mistaken in her estimate of his sentiments than in that of Katharine's; and it vas characteristic of her that, though her observations changed a vague surmise into a positive certainty, a threatening risk into a certain present danger, she betrayed not a sign of uneasiness or discouragement. Neither her colour nor her countenance changed, though she saw before her eyes the overthrow of a scheme cherished long and deeply--though she could only calculate the chances in her favour by a vague speculation on the possible fortune and position of the young man she had seen with Katharine; or, supposing he had neither, on Katharine's strength of determination in opposition to her father. It was also characteristic of Hester Gould that, though she had determined to marry Streightley without permitting herself to love him, she told herself that night that she felt a degree of dislike to Katharine Guyon, which might, if she did not take care, grow into hatred. "She is my unconscious and involuntary rival," said the strange woman, whose candour towards herself was never laid aside, "and I must not hate her; for hatred is troublesome--a passion--and I will never put myself under the tyranny of a passion." Hester Gould was at the Brixton Villa when Robert returned from his visit to Middlemeads. Mrs. Streightley and his sister were aware that he had gone into the country, but they knew no more. When he examined the letters sent by his orders from the City, he found among them one from Mr. Guyon, requesting him, if possible, to call on him on the following day, leaving the hour to his selection, but urging his attention to the request. The letter was a dainty missive, with a fine coloured monogram on the seal, and expressing in its appearance as wide a difference between itself and Robert's ordinary correspondence as it was in the power of stationery to convey. Ellen Streightley was one of those young ladies blessed with a taste for simple pleasures, and who rated the possession of crests and monograms very high among them. Accordingly she exclaimed, "O Robert, that's something in my line. Do let me have it!" He handed her the envelope. "O, how delightfully intricate! I can't make it out. What are the letters, Robert? Whose name is it?" "The letters are K.S.G.," said Robert, rather reluctantly. Hester watched him closely: "O, that's it, is it? but what is the name?" "Katharine Sibylla Guyon," replied Robert; and still Hester watched his embarrassment. "But the note is from Mr. Guyon--he wants to see me. I suppose he wrote it at his daughter's desk."