"Well, I don't know how it may be, my dear," answered Miss Beaumont, "I may be mistaken; but I cannot help thinking that Sir Oswald has changed his mind about you. I need not tell you that my opinions are opposed to a professional career for any young lady brought up in my establishment, however highly gifted. I'm sure my blood actually freezes in my veins, when I think of any pupil of mine standing on a public stage, to be gazed at by the common herd; and I told Sir Oswald, when he first proposed bringing you here, that it would be necessary to keep your destiny a profound secret from your fellow-pupils; for I assure you, my love, there are mammas and papas who would come to this house in the dead of the night and carry off their children, without a moment's warning, if they were informed that a young person intended to appear on the stage of the Italian Opera was receiving her education within these walls. In short, nothing but your own discreet conduct, and Sir Oswald's very liberal terms, could have reconciled me to the risk which I have run in receiving you." The first year of Honoria Milford's residence at "The Beeches" expired, and another year began. Sir Oswald's visits became more and more frequent. When the accounts of his _protégée's_ progress were more than usually enthusiastic, his visits were generally followed very speedily by the arrival of some costly gift for Miss Beaumont's pupil--a ring--a bracelet--a locket--always in perfect taste, and such as a young lady at a boarding-school might wear, but always of the most valuable description. Honoria Milford must have possessed a heart of stone, if she had not been grateful to so noble a benefactor. She was grateful, and her gratitude was obvious to her generous protector. Her beautiful face was illuminated with an unwonted radiance when she entered the drawing-room where he awaited her coming: and the pleasure with which she received his brief visits was as palpable as if it had been expressed in words. It was midsummer, and Honoria Milford had been a year and a quarter at "The Beeches." She had acquired much during that period; new accomplishments, new graces; and her beauty had developed into fresh splendour in the calm repose of that comfortable abode. She was liked by her fellow-pupils; but she had made neither friends nor _confidantes_. The dark secrets of her past life shut her out from all intimate companionship with girls of her own age. She had, in a manner, lived a lonely life amongst all these companions, and her chief happiness had been derived from her studies. Thus it was, perhaps, that she had made double progress during her residence with the Misses Beaumont. One bright afternoon in June, Sir Oswald's mail-phaeton and pair drove past the windows of the school-room. "Visitors for Miss Milford!" exclaimed the pupils seated near the windows, as they recognized the elegant equipage.