"No; love and I parted company long ago. I liked him, but though I do my best to help him, I don't care for him so much as I did, my dear: he's not worthy of you." "That's all very well, but I don't see the reason." "Of course not, what woman in love ever does see reason; however, make your mind easy, things are all right. I will tell you the reason some day." "But I want to know now." "Curiosity is a woman's vice," said Kitty lightly "Don't worry yourself, Miss Rainsford, whatever I know of Keith Stewart won't alter him in your eyes--now, don't say anything more about it. I'll ring for Meg." Eugénie tried to get a more explicit answer out of her, but Kitty only laughed. "It can't be anything so very bad," she said to herself, "or this woman would not laugh at it." Meg came in quietly, a demure, pensive-faced little child, and after Kitty had kissed her she presented her to Eugénie. "This is your new governess, Meg," she said, smoothing the child's hair, "and I want you to love her very much." Meg hung back for a few moments, with the awkward timidity of a child, but Eugénie's soft voice and caressing manner soon gained her confidence. "I like you very much," she said at length, nestling to Eugénie's side. "As much as mumsey, Meg?" said Kitty, with a sad smile. "Oh, never--never as much as mumsey," cried Meg, leaving her new-found friend for her mother, "There's no one so good and kind as mumsey." Kitty kissed the child vehemently, and then bit her lips to stop the tears coming to her eyes. "Mumsey," said Meg at length, "can I tell the lady a secret?" "Yes, dear," replied Kitty smiling. Thereupon Meg slipped off Kitty's lap and ran to Eugénie. "What is this great secret?" asked Eugénie, bending down with a laugh. Meg put her mouth to Eugénie's ear, and whispered,-- "When I grow up I'm going to marry Keith." "You see," said Kitty, overhearing the whisper, "my daughter is your rival." "And a very dangerous one," replied Eugénie with a sigh, touching the auburn hair. Meg was sent off after this, and then Kitty arranged all about the salary with Eugénie, after which she accompanied her to the door to say good-bye. "I'm sorry I put any distrust into your heart about Mr. Stewart," she said; "but don't trouble, my dear, get him to give up his dissipated habits, and you'll no doubt find he'll make an excellent husband." "Ah!" said Eugénie to herself as she walked to the station, "it was only dissipation she meant--as if anything like that could hurt Keith in my eyes." Then she began to think of the strange woman she had left--with her sudden changes of temperament from laughter to tears--with her extraordinary nature, half-vice half-virtue, of the love she bore for her child, and the strong will that could send that child away for ever from her lonely life. CHAPTER XXI. A FIRST NIGHT AT THE BON-BON.