“Sophy is very foolish, Mrs. Archer,” said her brother. “Sir Ralph is much nicer when one comes to know him. I, myself, did not at first take to him at all, but now that I have seen a little more of him I really like him.” Sophy looked rather annoyed: “Next time you intend to change your opinion of any one in such a hurry, I wish you would give me notice, Frank,” she said; and then turning to Mrs. Archer, she began a rattling conversation on every subject under the sun, making fun of all the people it Altes, one after another. Marion felt disappointed. Something in the girl had attracted her, but this sort of talk wearied and repelled her. She much preferred hearing from Captain Berwick a more detailed account of his mountain expedition, which he, pleased at the interest this pretty girl took in his recital, was nothing loth to give her. He several times alluded to the young Russian, Nodouroff. Marion asked who he was. “Oh, they’re rather grand people, I believe,” said young Berwick; “the father is an official, of course, something about the court. The mother and daughter come here almost every winter. The daughter, Countess Olga, is the most beautiful girl here. At least, in my opinion. Some people admire Miss Vyse, Lady Severn’s niece, more. Have you seen her?” “Yes,” said Marion “I think her very beautiful.” “So she is undoubtedly; but the Countess Olga’s expression is much more to my taste. I am sure you would think so too. There is something melancholy about her face. I don’t know if she is really so, for I have never spoken to her.” “But beautiful people always look more or less melancholy, don’t you think?” asked Marion. “No, not all. Miss Vyse doesn’t look melancholy, though she tries it, now and then,” said Captain Berwick; “but her face is too hard for that sort of thing, I hate a hard expression. Even a goose like Dora Bailey is more to my taste than a beauty like Miss Vyse.” “Who is the English gentleman with Count Vladimir?” “Oh, his tutor, Mr. Price, you mean. He used to be Severn’s tutor. Poor wretch! I do think tutors are more to be pitied than any order of human beings, except governesses. Do you remember, Sophy, how fearfully you bullied yours?” A frown from Sophy revealed to the unfortunate Frank that he had made a terrible blunder. Marion pitied him, though not a little amused at his confusion. She said quietly: “I don’t think all governesses are to be pitied. Not, at least, those like me who live at home and only give daily lessons. You don’t think I look very wretched, do you, though I am daily governess to Lady Severn’s little girls?” “Pray forgive me, Miss Freer,” said the young man; “and pray believe I am the very last fellow on earth to—“ “To say anything to hurt any one else,” suggested Marion, good-humouredly. “Yes, I assure you you are quite forgiven, Captain Berwick.”