"I might have done far better, Rhoda," she said, plaintively; "but I had a hard situation, and I wanted to get out of it. You don't know the misery of being nursery governess. One is just like the bat in the fable, neither a bird nor a beast--neither a lady nor a servant. The position is bad enough for an ugly girl; but it is ten times worse for a pretty one." No one could blame Helen for speaking of her beauty as an established fact. "When I was married to Robert," she continued, "I soon began to be disappointed in him. There was an end to all the nice little attentions. I was almost his goddess until I became his wife." "Oh, that's a very old story," responded Rhoda. "Lovers are just like our old apple trees; one would think to see the quantity of blossom that there would be a deal of fruit; but there never is. Great promise and small fulfilment--that's always the case with men." "He was dreadfully stingy," went on Helen. "He worried me sadly about my expenses. I was not allowed enough money to keep myself decently dressed. I think he liked to see me shabby." "You are wearing a very good dress at this moment," remarked Rhoda. "Yes, this is well enough," answered her cousin, colouring slightly. "I was obliged to get things without his leave sometimes, or I should have looked like a scarecrow. Robert would never believe that I wanted any clothes." "What did he do with the money that he stole?" Rhoda asked abruptly. "How should I know?" sighed Helen. "He never gave a shilling of it to me. One day he came home and told me, quite suddenly, that his sin must be discovered. I thought that he was crazed, and when I found that he was in his right mind, I nearly lost my senses. Never get married, Rhoda; take my advice, and be a single woman. It's the only way to keep out of misery." "I'm not thinking of marrying, Helen," replied Rhoda, rather sharply; "but every marriage is not such a mistake as yours has been. God knew what He was about, I suppose, when He brought Adam and Eve together. There's little sense in abusing a good road just because you couldn't walk upright on it." "You would not have found it easy to walk with Robert," said Helen, mournfully. "And now he has gone off, and has left me sticking in the mire! It's worse than being a widow." Rhoda melted at once at the thought of Helen's desolate condition. "Perhaps he may really get on in Australia," she rejoined, trying to speak hopefully; "and then he may send for you and the child." "Oh, I hope not!" returned Helen, with a little start. "If he gets on, he will send home money for us; but I do not want to live with him again."