A STARTLING CONDITION. During the night that followed, most of the girls at Hazlitt Chase slept soundly. The day through which they had just lived was conducive to healthy slumber. There was nothing to weigh on their young hearts. They were tired, healthily tired, from a judicious mixture of exercise and work--of mental interest, moral stimulus, and the best physical exercise. But one girl lay awake all night. She tossed from side to side of her restless pillow. Now, this girl was not Honora Beverley, who, having clearly stated her mind, had felt no further compunction. She had a brother--a clergyman--to whom she was devoted, and she did not think that he would like her to act Helen of Troy. Be that as it may, she had made her decision, and would abide by it. She therefore, although sorry she had upset the arrangements of the school, and in particular had annoyed Mrs Hazlitt, slept the sleep of the just. The girl who lay awake was Penelope Carlton. Now, Penelope, being poorer than the others, was not in any way subjected on that account to severer rules or to poorer accommodation. Each girl in the old Chase had a bedroom of her own, and Penelope, who paid nothing a year, but who was taken altogether out of good will and kindness, had just as pretty a room as Honora Beverley, whose father paid two hundred and fifty pounds per annum for her education in this select establishment. No one in the school knew that Penelope was really taken out of a sort of charity. That would, indeed, have been to ruin the girl: so thought Mrs Hazlitt. Her room was small, but perfectly decorated, and although in winter there were dark red curtains to all the windows, and bright fires in the grates, and electric light to make the place bright and cheerful: yet in summer every schoolgirl's special apartment was draped in virgin white. Penelope now lay down on as soft a bed as did her richer sisters, and had just as good a chance as they of peaceful slumber. But alack--and alas! she could not sleep! Penelope's mind was upset, and a possibility of doing a kindness to the one creature who in all the world she truly loved, flashed before her mind. Poor Penelope had no father, and no mother; but she had one sister, to whom she was devoted. This sister was as poor as herself. Her name was Brenda, and she had been a governess in different families for some years. She used to write to Penelope at least once a week, and her letters were always complaining of the hardships of her lot. She assured Penelope that the office of teacher was the most to be dreaded of any in the wide world, and again and again begged of her sister to think of some other mode of earning money. A pupil of Mrs Hazlitt's, however, had no other career open to her, and Penelope was resigned to her fate. She had eighteen more months to stay at Hazlitt Chase, and during that time she resolved to bring her remarkable talents--for such she felt them to be--well to the front.