"Do not keep her long, Mrs. Pain," said Maria. "I must be going." "Where is your hurry?" asked Charlotte. "I am going on to Ashlydyat." Charlotte departed with Meta, and Maria continued with the ladies, Charlotte's guests. They had been talking a few minutes, when loud screams of terror from Meta alarmed their ears. Maria hastened out in the direction of the sound, her cheeks and lips alike blanched. She came upon them--Charlotte and the child--in that secluded, lovely spot amidst the grove of trees, where Charlotte Pain--and you saw her--had held an interview with her future husband, Rodolf, on George Godolphin's wedding-day. Charlotte had now carried the child there, and set her on the mossy turf, and called her dogs around. She had done it thinking to give pleasure to the child. But Meta was of a timid nature; she was not used to dogs; and upon one of them springing on her with a bark, "all for play," as Charlotte said, her fear broke forth in terrified cries. When Maria reached them, Charlotte had caught up Meta in her arms, and was kicking the dogs off. Meta sprang from Charlotte's arms to her mother's, with a great cry. Maria, not so strongly-framed as Charlotte, could not hold this child of between five and six at her ease, but was fain to stagger with her to a bench. Meta lay in her lap, clinging to her and sobbing convulsively. "My darling, what is it?" whispered Maria. "What has hurt you?" "Oh, mamma, send them away! send them away!" cried the little imploring voice. "Would you be so kind as send the dogs away, Mrs. Pain?" asked Maria. "I think she is frightened at them." "I know she is, foolish little thing!" answered Charlotte, going off with the dogs. Apparently she disposed of them somewhere, for she returned the next minute without them. Maria was in the same place, holding her child to her heart. "Mrs. George Godolphin, don't you think you will have to answer sometime for the manner in which you are rearing that child?" began she, gravely. "In what way?" returned Maria. "You are bringing her up to be as timid as yourself." "Am I particularly timid?" "You! Why, you know you are. You don't ride: you wouldn't drive for the world; you are afraid of dogs." "I could manage to ride a quiet pony," said Maria. "As to dogs, I confess that I am a little afraid of them, if they are rough." "If a dog only barks, you call it 'rough,'" retorted Charlotte. "I should just put that child down again, and call the dogs round her, and let her battle it out with them. They would not hurt her; there's no fear of that; and it would teach her to overcome fear." "Oh, Mrs. Pain!" Maria involuntarily strained her child closer to her, and Meta, who had heard the words, pushed her little hot face of distress nearer to its shelter. "It might throw her into such a state of terror, that she would never forget it. She would be frightened at dogs for her life. _That_ is not the way to treat children, indeed, Mrs. Pain!"