'Though I do not deserve it,' said Ida. 'You know best about that. Yes,' after some moments of silent thought, 'it may not be too late even now. When I lunched with the Trevors, at Romsey, the day of Brian's return, Mrs. Trevor's sister, Lady Micheldever, was in a state of anxiety about governesses. Her old governess was to be married in a few weeks, such an inestimable treasure that Lady Micheldever thought it would be impossible to replace her, so sweet, so ladylike, so accomplished. Now, if the situation is not yet filled, I think it would suit you exactly. They are people who would give you a liberal salary--you would be able to help your father.' 'I should be glad of that. Do the Micheldevers live near here?' faltered Ida. 'I want to go quite away.' 'They have property near here, but their place is close to Savernake Forest, and they spend their winters in Italy. Sir George has a weak chest, and all the children are delicate. If you go to them, nearly half your life will be spent abroad.' 'I should like that very much,' said Ida. 'Nothing so pleasant as variety of scenery and people,' replied Miss Wendover, with a touch of irony in her voice. She began to think Ida cold-hearted and hypocritical. It was evident to her that this feverish longing for change was mere selfish ambition, a desire to be better placed in the world. She had met with the same kind of feeling too often in her rustic _protégées_ of the cook and house-maid class, who, when they had learnt all she could teach them, were eager to spread their wings and soar to the servants' halls of Mayfair, and the society of powdered footmen. 'Nine o'clock,' said Miss Wendover, wrapping her shawl round her, and rising to go into the drawing-room as the church clock chimed silver-sweet across the elm tops and the misty meadows. 'Too late for this evening's post; but I will write to Lady Micheldever to-night, and my letter will be ready for the midday mail to-morrow. I hope she has not found anybody yet.' 'You are too good,' faltered Ida, as they went into the lamplit room. 'I am only doing my duty,' replied Miss Wendover. '"Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest!"' 'You will not tell Bessie, or anyone, till I am gone?' pleaded Ida, earnestly. 'Certainly not--if that is your wish.' CHAPTER XVIII AFTER A STORM COMES A CALM.