"I don't know, child. I never ate one," answered Miss Druett, absently. Then, as Calista laughed,—"I do not know what I am saying. No, I don't think any lizards are venomous, though, I dare say, they might bite, like other creatures, if alarmed or provoked. Are you very tired? Do you want to go to bed directly?" "No, ma'am," answered Calista. "Not if I can do anything for you." "Come into my room and sit down a little. I have something to say to you, and I may not have another chance." Calista obeyed. The usually neat room was not disorderly—for nothing about Miss Druett could be that—but disarranged. A great trunk, nearly filled, stood open at the foot of the bed; a picture, which had always hung above the fireplace, was taken down; and some books were missing from their places. Miss Druett cleared a chair for Calista and took another herself, but she did not seem in a hurry to begin the conversation. "Are you really going, Miss Druett?" asked Calista, presently, seeing that she did not speak. "I have no choice, child, as things are at present. I have borne a great deal from Priscilla, and if I staid, I should, no doubt, bear a great deal more; but you must see yourself that I cannot remain in her house after she has ordered me out of it." "Of course not. I only wonder that you should have staid so long." "Well, your grandfather and Priscilla's mother were kind to me when I was an orphan and poor, and Priscilla and I were friends in youth. Latterly I have had another reason for staying. You heard what your aunt said, this morning, about your father." And Miss Druett blushed a vivid carnation blush, which gave an almost unearthly lustre to her dark eyes. "I heard it," said Calista, "but I thought it was, perhaps, only one of the spiteful things she says when she gets angry." "It was true," said Miss Druett. "I am going to tell you a little of my own history, Calista. It will help you to understand some things which must have seemed strange to you." "I was left alone in the world at a very early age. My mother, who was a relation of the first Mrs. Stanfield, was clandestinely married to a British officer of high rank and small principle, at the time that New York was occupied by the British. When the city was evacuated, she was left alone, with a young baby, and no dependence but the old father whose heart she had broken, and who was sinking into his grave. General Stanfield, then recently married, found her out in her darkest hour of trouble. She was then alone in the world, sinking in a decline, having sacrificed everything to a man who cared for nothing but the amusement of a passing hour. Calista, whatever you do, never make a secret marriage." "I never mean to marry at all," pronounced Calista, with all the confidence of sixteen.