“Not one in the world,” said Catty, solemnly; “I pledge you my word and faith I never heard a syllable about it.” “About it! about what?” “About what's in the letter there,” said Catty, stoutly. “You are therefore quite certain that you know it,” said Mary, smiling, “so now let's have your interpretation.” “It 's a proposial,” said Catty, with a slight wink. “A what!” “A proposial--of marriage, I mean.” But before the words were out, Mary burst into a fit of laughter, so hearty and with such good-will that poor Catty felt perfectly ashamed of herself. “My dear Catty,” said she, at length, “you must have been reading fairy tales this morning; nothing short of such bright literature could have filled your mind with these imaginings. The object of the note is, I assure you, of a quite different kind;” and here she ran her eye once more over the epistle. “Yes,” continued she, “it is written in my dear aunt's own peculiar style, and begins with a 'declaratory clause,' as I think Mr. Scanlan would call it, expressive of my lamentably neglected education, and then proceeds to the appropriate remedy, by telling me that I am to have a governess!” “A what!” cried Catty, in angry amazement. “A governess, Catty,--not a governor, as you suspected.” “Ayeh, ayeh!” cried the old woman, wringing her hands; “what's this for? Don't you know how to govern yourself by this time? And what can they teach you that you don't understand already?” “Ah, my dear Catty,” said the young girl, sadly, “it is a sad subject you would open there,--one that I have wept over many a dreary hour! No one knows--no one even could guess--how deeply I have deplored my illiterate condition. Nor was it,” added she, ardently, “till I had fashioned out a kind of existence of my own--active, useful, and energetic--that I could bury the thought of my utter want of education. Not even you, Catty, could fathom all the tears this theme has cost me, nor with what a sinking of the heart I have thought over my actual unfitness for my station.” “Arrah, don't provoke me! don't drive me mad!” cried the old woman, in real anger. “There never was one yet as fit for the highest place as yourself; and it is n't me alone that says it, but hundreds of--” “Hundreds of dear, kind, loving hearts,” broke in Mary, “that would measure my poor capacity by my will to serve them. But no matter, Catty; I 'll not try to undeceive them. They shall think of me with every help their own affection may lend them, and I will not love them less for the overestimate.” As she spoke these words, she buried her face between her hands; but the quick heaving of her chest showed how deep was her emotion. The old woman respected her sorrow too deeply to interrupt her, and for several minutes not a word was spoken on either side. At last Mary raised her head, and throwing back the long, loose hair, which in heavy masses shaded her face, said with a firm and resolute voice,--