It is with the study, or Miss Thornycroft's parlour, that we have to do today. Its window is thrown open to the hot July sun--to the green lawn and the shrubs underneath--to the bare plateau beyond, on whose edge a coastguardsman was pacing on duty--to the sparkling sea in the distance. The paper of the room was of white and gold, pretty drawings and landscapes in water-colours adorning it. Some of them had been done by Miss Thornycroft, some by her late mother. The carpet and chairs were green; the piano, cabinets, and other furniture were handsome; the white curtains waved in the gentle breeze--altogether it was a room pleasant to look upon. Seated on the music-stool, her face to the door, was a little middle-aged, brown woman, unmistakably French, without her tongue, which was going fluently, a look of reproach on her naturally placid face. It was Mademoiselle Derode, the governess, resident now some five years at the Red Court. A simple-minded woman, accomplished though she was--good as gold, and timid as her own nature. Richard Thornycroft had related to her some of the ghostly tales connected with the Red Court--or rather with its immediate environs--and she would not have stirred out at night alone for the world. Her chamber window when she first came faced the plateau; after hearing the stories she begged and prayed to be removed into another. Mrs. Thornycroft, alive then, complied with a sad smile, and reproved Richard in her gentle manner for saying anything. If whispers were to be believed, these same ghostly rumours were even then helping to kill Mrs. Thornycroft. Mademoiselle Derode was _en colère_ this morning with her pupil. French, German, English; good music, harp, and piano; drawing and painting; she was thoroughly versed in all, and had as thoroughly taught. For her age, Miss Thornycroft was an exceedingly well-educated girl, but apt at times to be a rebellious one. In fact she was growing quite beyond the control of the little governess. The young lady stood by the table facing the window--a tall, very handsome girl of nearly sixteen, with her brother Isaac's fair skin and bright features, and a suspicious look of Richard's resolute lip. She wore a blue muslin dress, blue ribbons in her fair hair; her pretty hands were tossing, not in play but petulance, a large white rose, broken short off from its stalk; her well-shaped head was thrown back; her light clear blue eyes looked out defiantly. "As if there could be reason in it!" spoke mademoiselle in her quaint but well-pronounced English. "You did but the little half of your lessons yesterday; the other day before it you went out without saying to me the one word; and now this morning you want to go out again. You will not do any one little thing! I say, Miss Mary Anne, that it has not reason in it." "I promised Captain Copp I would go, mademoiselle. Mrs. Copp will be waiting for me."