But the stars in their courses seemed to fight against Jane. There were numbers of persons indeed who were looking for a "refined young woman, English preferred," to act as nursery governess; but, unluckily, the refined and undeniably attractive Miss Blythe had no references beyond a manly-looking scrawl of Bertha Forbes's composition, in which Jane was described as being a young English woman known to the writer as a well-educated person of good, moral character. "I am afraid," said Jane, with an ingenuous blush, "that it hurts your conscience to say all that about me, considering the circumstances of our first acquaintance." "No," said Miss Forbes, "my conscience is not of the abnormally sensitive variety, in the first place; in the second, I am morally certain that you are exactly what you say you are. But the truth is, my good girl, that my convictions, while entirely satisfactory to myself, will not hold water if it comes to investigating them, and the people who are willing to pay well for having their children kept out of their way are quite apt to investigate. It gives them an easy conscience, you see." Added to this unconvincing dimness of her immediate background was Jane's ingrained habit of telling the truth upon occasions when an elusive reticence would have been far more prudent. One impulsive lady, it is true, was about to engage Jane out of hand, being irresistibly attracted by her smile and manner. But before concluding the matter she chanced to ask Miss Blythe why she had come to America. "I came to America," said Jane, endeavoring to be discreet "because I was--very unhappy in England." "Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Newport, scenting a mystery, "and why were you unhappy in England?" Jane was silent for a space. "I don't see why I should tell you," she said at last, with a proud lifting of her little head; "my troubles concerned no one but myself." Mrs. Newport raised her eyebrows. "I must _insist_ upon knowing everything about your past," she said conclusively, "else I cannot engage you." Jane arose with the air of a duchess in disguise. "Good morning, Mrs. Newport," she said. Bertha Forbes shook her head when she heard of this circumstance. "I'm sorry you didn't see fit to tell the woman something about yourself," she said. "There is really nothing to be ashamed of in your story, except the smuggling part--that I'd advise you to keep to yourself." "No," said Jane stonily. "I have nothing to be ashamed of; but the fact that I wish to work for my living does not give that woman, or any other, the right to ask impertinent questions about my private affairs."