“Of course not, Miss Berwick,” she exclaimed, rather indignantly, but, on catching a beseeching look from Marion, she changed her tone, and added, half laughingly, “Don’t you know, Miss Berwick, that Marion is going out with me next spring, to marry a nabob whom she has never seen? A real nabob, I assure you, as rich as—as I should like to be, and that’s saying a good deal, I assure you. By this time next year, imagine Miss Freer converted into Mrs. Nabob, with more fine dresses and diamonds than she knows what to do with. What a charming prospect! I hope you will remember, May, to give me some of your cast-off grandeur.” “How can you be so silly, Cissy!” said Marion, half laughing and half annoyed. Sophy looked curious and mystified. She could not make out how much was fun and how much earliest of Mrs. Archer’s announcement. Miss Freer’s “How silly,” very probably, only applied to her friend’s exaggerated way of telling it. It was quite possible, Sophy decided, that the young lady was in fact engaged to some rich Indian, and was only a daily governess for a short time, perhaps to make some money towards providing a trousseau, being of a more independent spirit than some brides elect in similar circumstances. It seemed rather a plausible way of accounting, for the mystery, which even Sophy, whose perceptions were not of the acutest, felt there existed about this girl. She would have uncommonly liked to hear reason, but, was not bold enough to make further inquiries. Besides which, Marion evidently wished the subject to be dropped, and Sophy would have been really sorry to annoy her. So no more was said; but, as Sophy was leaving, Marion accompanied her to the door, and said to her, earnestly, but in a low voice: “Miss Berwick, will you be so good as not to think anything of what Mrs. Archer said today? I mean, will you please not to talk about it. You don’t know how exceedingly it would annoy me if any reports were spread about me; if, indeed, I were spoken about at all, it would vex me, for it might cause much mischief.” “Certainly, Miss Freer, I won’t be the one to spread reports about you,” replied Sophy; “I like you far too much to wish to annoy you. You may depend upon my discretion.” “Thank you,” said Marion, looking more comfortable, for she saw that Sophy meant what she said. Still it was not very wise of her to have made this appeal to Sophy. It only impressed upon the thoughtless girl’s memory what otherwise she would probably have soon forgotten. Marion returned to the drawing-room, intending to scold Cissy, but the naughty bird was flown.