“Thank you,” said Marion. And as Miss Vyse seated herself gracefully, she thought again, “How very beautiful you are.” But, somehow, she did not think it quite in the same way since hearing Florence speak. Something in her voice repelled her. Not the tone of condescension, that was simply rather laughable; and irritating, perhaps, for the moment. It was no incidental inflection that she disliked. It was something in the voice itself: or, rather, it seemed to her something wanting in it. An absence, not of depth nor refinement, nor sweetness; of no one of these exactly, but of something including and yet surpassing them all. And, in a strange way, it seemed to her as if her immediate perception of a want in the voice revealed to her at the same moment an equally indefinable want in the whole being of the woman before her. And yet she was so beautiful! If only she had been a picture instead of a living being, Marion felt that she could have admired her with perfect satisfaction! But she was brought back from these fancies by Miss Vyse’s proceeding to inform her that Lady Severn was anxious to know if she could commence her new duties as soon as the following Monday. “Oh, yes,” said Marion; “I am sure Mrs. Archer will be able to spare me by then. She only asked me to be as much with her as possible this week, as I can help her in arranging things a little.” “Certainly,” said Miss Vyse; “and then as to hours. Can you be here regularly by half-past nine?” To which proposal also Marion agreed; and had next to listen to a dissertation from her companion on the subject of the studies to which Lady Severn especially desired her to direct her grand-daughters’ attention. Miss Vyse had rather got herself up for the occasion, and talked so fluently about books and methods, the system on which she herself had been educated, &c., &c., that she ended by frightening Marion far more than Lady Severn had done the previous day. She was just beginning to wonder if Miss Vyse would ever leave of talking, when, to her great relief, their tête-à-tête was interrupted by the entrance of Lady Severn and her two grand-daughters. “Good morning, Miss Freer,” said the elder lady. “I was quite obliged to go out early this morning with my grand-daughters, but I have no doubt Miss Vyse will have said to you all I wished. I am glad you are still here, as I can now introduce these little girls to you. Charlotte, my dear, this is Miss Freer, who has kindly undertaken the charge of your studies.” Charlotte came forward frankly enough, shook hands with Marion in an easy, careless sort of way, and then, turning to Miss Vyse, began eagerly to relate to her the event of the morning—a visit to the dressmaker; not seeming to think it necessary to bestow any more attention on her prospective governess.