MR. PHILIP FLETCHER.

DURING the next few weeks Christie learned the worth of many thingswhich she had valued very lightly until then. Health became a boontoo precious to be trifled with; life assumed a deeper significancewhen death's shadow fell upon its light, and she discovered thatdependence might be made endurable by the sympathy of unsuspectedfriends.

Lucy waited upon her with a remorseful devotion which touched hervery much and won entire forgiveness for the past, long before itwas repentantly implored. All her comrades came with offers of helpand affectionate regrets. Several whom she had most disliked nowearned her gratitude by the kindly thoughtfulness which filled hersick-room with fruit and flowers, supplied carriages for theconvalescent, and paid her doctor's bill without her knowledge.

Thus Christie learned, like many another needy member of the gayprofession, that though often extravagant and jovial in their way oflife, these men and women give as freely as they spend, wear warm,true hearts under their motley, and make misfortune only anotherlink in the bond of good-fellowship which binds them loyallytogether.

Slowly Christie gathered her energies after weeks of suffering, andtook up her life again, grateful for the gift, and anxious to bemore worthy of it. Looking back upon the past she felt that she hadmade a mistake and lost more than she had gained in those threeyears. Others might lead that life of alternate excitement and hardwork unharmed, but she could not. The very ardor and insight whichgave power to the actress made that mimic life unsatisfactory to thewoman, for hers was an earnest nature that took fast hold ofwhatever task she gave herself to do, and lived in it heartily whileduty made it right, or novelty lent it charms. But when she saw theerror of a step, the emptiness of a belief, with a like earnestnessshe tried to retrieve the one and to replace the other with a bettersubstitute.

In the silence of wakeful nights and the solitude of quiet days, shetook counsel with her better self, condemned the reckless spiritwhich had possessed her, and came at last to the decision whichconscience prompted and much thought confirmed.

"The stage is not the place for me," she said. "I have no genius toglorify the drudgery, keep me from temptation, and repay me for anysacrifice I make. Other women can lead this life safely and happily:I cannot, and I must not go back to it, because, with all my pastexperience, and in spite of all my present good resolutions, Ishould do no better, and I might do worse. I'm not wise enough tokeep steady there; I must return to the old ways, dull but safe, andplod along till I find my real place and work."

Great was the surprise of Lucy and her mother when Christie told herresolution, adding, in a whisper, to the girl, "I leave the fieldclear for you, dear, and will dance at your wedding with all myheart when St. George asks you to play the 'Honeymoon' with him, asI'm sure he will before long."

Many entreaties from friends, as well as secret longings, tried andtempted Christie sorely, but she withstood them all, carried herpoint, and renounced the profession she could not follow withoutself-injury and self-reproach. The season was nearly over when shewas well enough to take her place again, but she refused to return,relinquished her salary, sold her wardrobe, and never crossed thethreshold of the theatre after she had said good-bye.

Then she asked, "What next?" and was speedily answered. Anadvertisement for a governess met her eye, which seemed to combinethe two things she most needed just then, - employment and change ofair.

"Mind you don't mention that you've been an actress or it will beall up with you, me dear," said Mrs. Black, as Christie prepared toinvestigate the matter, for since her last effort in that line shehad increased her knowledge of music, and learned French enough toventure teaching it to very young pupils.

"I'd rather tell in the beginning, for if you keep any thing backit's sure to pop out when you least expect or want it. I don'tbelieve these people will care as long as I'm respectable and teachwell," returned Christie, wishing she looked stronger and rosier.

"You'll be sorry if you do tell," warned Mrs. Black, who knew theways of the world.

"I shall be sorry if I don't," laughed Christie, and so she was, inthe end.

"L. N. Saltonstall" was the name on the door, and L. N.Saltonstall's servant was so leisurely about answering Christie'smeek solo on the bell, that she had time to pull out herbonnet-strings half-a-dozen times before a very black man in a verywhite jacket condescended to conduct her to his mistress.

A frail, tea-colored lady appeared, displaying such a smallproportion of woman to such a large proportion of purple and finelinen, that she looked as if she was literally as well asfiguratively "dressed to death."

Christie went to the point in a business-like manner that seemed tosuit Mrs. Saltonstall, because it saved so much trouble, and shereplied, with a languid affability:

"I wish some one to teach the children a little, for they aregetting too old to be left entirely to nurse. I am anxious to get tothe sea-shore as soon as possible, for they have been poorly allwinter, and my own health has suffered. Do you feel inclined to trythe place? And what compensation do you require?"

Christie had but a vague idea of what wages were usually paid tonursery governesses, and hesitatingly named a sum which seemedreasonable to her, but was so much less than any other applicant hadasked, that Mrs. Saltonstall began to think she could not do betterthan secure this cheap young person, who looked firm enough tomanage her rebellious son and heir, and well-bred enough to beginthe education of a little fine lady. Her winter had been anextravagant one, and she could economize in the governess betterperhaps than elsewhere; so she decided to try Christie, and get outof town at once.

"Your terms are quite satisfactory, Miss Devon, and if my brotherapproves, I think we will consider the matter settled. Perhaps youwould like to see the children? They are little darlings, and youwill soon be fond of them, I am sure."

A bell was rung, an order given, and presently appeared aneight-year old boy, so excessively Scotch in his costume that helooked like an animated checkerboard; and a little girl, whopresented the appearance of a miniature opera-dancer staggeringunder the weight of an immense sash.

"Go and speak prettily to Miss Devon, my pets, for she is coming toplay with you, and you must mind what she says," commanded mamma.

The pale, fretful-looking little pair went solemnly to Christie'sknee, and stood there staring at her with a dull composure thatquite daunted her, it was so sadly unchildlike.

"What is your name, dear?" she asked, laying her hand on the younglady's head.

"Villamena Temmatina Taltentall. You mustn't touch my hair; it'sjust turled," was the somewhat embarrassing reply.

"Mine's Louy 'Poleon Thaltensthall, like papa's," volunteered theother young person, and Christie privately wondered if thepossession of names nearly as long as themselves was not a burden tothe poor dears.

Feeling that she must say something, she asked, in her mostpersuasive tone:

"Would you like to have me come and teach you some nice lessons outof your little books?"

If she had proposed corporal punishment on the spot it could nothave caused greater dismay. Wilhelmina cast herself upon the floorpassionately, declaring that she "touldn't tuddy," and Saltonstall,Jr., retreated precipitately to the door, and from that refugedefied the whole race of governesses and "nasty lessons" jointly.

"There, run away to Justine. They are sadly out of sorts, and quitepining for sea-air," said mamma, with both hands at her ears, forthe war-cries of her darlings were piercing as they departed,proclaiming their wrongs while swarming up stairs, with a skirmishon each landing.

With a few more words Christie took leave, and scandalized the sableretainer by smiling all through the hall, and laughing audibly asthe door closed. The contrast of the plaid boy and beruffled girl'sirritability with their mother's languid affectation, and her ownunfortunate efforts, was too much for her. In the middle of hermerriment she paused suddenly, saying to herself:

"I never told about my acting. I must go back and have it settled."She retraced a few steps, then turned and went on again, thinking,"No; for once I'll be guided by other people's advice, and let wellalone."

A note arrived soon after, bidding Miss Devon consider herselfengaged, and desiring her to join the family at the boat on Mondaynext.

At the appointed time Christie was on board, and looked about forher party. Mrs. Saltonstall appeared in the distance with her familyabout her, and Christie took a survey before reporting herself.Madame looked more like a fashion-plate than ever, in a mass ofgreen flounces, and an impressive bonnet flushed with poppies andbristling with wheat-ears. Beside her sat a gentleman, rapt in anewspaper, of course, for to an American man life is a burden tillthe daily news have been absorbed. Mrs. Saltonstall's brother wasthe possessor of a handsome eye without softness, thin lips withoutbenevolence, but plenty of will; a face and figure which somethirty-five years of ease and pleasure had done their best to polishand spoil, and a costume without flaw, from his aristocratic bootsto the summer hat on his head.

The little boy more checkered and the little girl more operatic thanbefore, sat on stools eating bonbons, while a French maid and theAfrican footman hovered in the background.

MRS. SALTONSTALL AND FAMILY.

Feeling very much like a meek gray moth among a flock ofbutterflies, Christie modestly presented herself.

"Good morning," said Madame with a nod, which, slight as it was,caused a great commotion among the poppies and the wheat; "I beganto be anxious about you. Miss Devon, my brother, Mr. Fletcher."

The gentleman bowed, and as Christie sat down he got up, saying, ashe sauntered away with a bored expression:

"Will you have the paper, Charlotte? There's nothing in it."

As Mrs. Saltonstall seemed going to sleep and she felt delicateabout addressing the irritable infants in public, Christie amusedherself by watching Mr. Fletcher as he roamed listlessly about, anddeciding, in her usual rash way, that she did not like him becausehe looked both lazy and cross, and ennui was evidently his bosomfriend. Soon, however, she forgot every thing but the shimmer of thesunshine on the sea, the fresh wind that brought color to her palecheeks, and the happy thoughts that left a smile upon her lips. ThenMr. Fletcher put up his glass and stared at her, shook his head, andsaid, as he lit a cigar:

"Poor little wretch, what a time she will have of it betweenCharlotte and the brats!"

But Christie needed no pity, and thought herself a fortunate youngwoman when fairly established in her corner of the luxuriousapartments occupied by the family. Her duties seemed light comparedto those she had left, her dreams were almost as bright as of old,and the new life looked pleasant to her, for she was one of thosewho could find little bits of happiness for herself and enjoy themheartily in spite of loneliness or neglect.

One of her amusements was studying her companions, and for a timethis occupied her, for Christie possessed penetration and a femininefancy for finding out people.

Mrs. Saltonstall's mission appeared to be the illustration of eachnew fashion as it came, and she performed it with a devotion worthyof a better cause. If a color reigned supreme she flushed herselfwith scarlet or faded into primrose, made herself pretty in thebluest of blue gowns, or turned livid under a gooseberry coloredbonnet. Her hat-brims went up or down, were preposterously wide ordwindled to an inch, as the mode demanded. Her skirts were rampantwith sixteen frills, or picturesque with landscapes down each side,and a Greek border or a plain hem. Her waists were as pointed asthose of Queen Bess or as short as Diana's; and it was the opinionof those who knew her that if the autocrat who ruled her lifedecreed the wearing of black cats as well as of vegetables, bugs,and birds, the blackest, glossiest Puss procurable for money wouldhave adorned her head in some way.

Her time was spent in dressing, driving, dining and dancing; inskimming novels, and embroidering muslin; going to church with avelvet prayer-book and a new bonnet; and writing to her husband whenshe wanted money, for she had a husband somewhere abroad, who sohappily combined business with pleasure that he never found time tocome home. Her children were inconvenient blessings, but she lovedthem with the love of a shallow heart, and took such good care oftheir little bodies that there was none left for their little souls.A few days' trial satisfied her as to Christie's capabilities, and,relieved of that anxiety, she gave herself up to her social duties,leaving the ocean and the governess to make the summer wholesome andagreeable to "the darlings."

Mr. Fletcher, having tried all sorts of pleasure and found that,like his newspaper, there was "nothing in it," was now paying thepenalty for that unsatisfactory knowledge. Ill health soured histemper and made his life a burden to him. Having few resourceswithin himself to fall back upon, he was very dependent upon otherpeople, and other people were so busy amusing themselves, theyseemed to find little time or inclination to amuse a man who hadnever troubled himself about them. He was rich, but while his moneycould hire a servant to supply each want, gratify each caprice, itcould not buy a tender, faithful friend to serve for love, and askno wages but his comfort.

He knew this, and felt the vain regret that inevitably comes tothose who waste life and learn the value of good gifts by theirloss. But he was not wise or brave enough to bear his punishmentmanfully, and lay the lesson honestly to heart. Fretful andimperious when in pain, listless and selfish when at ease, his oneaim in life now was to kill time, and any thing that aided him inthis was most gratefully welcomed.

For a long while he took no more notice of Christie than if she hadbeen a shadow, seldom speaking beyond the necessary salutations, andmerely carrying his finger to his hat-brim when he passed her on thebeach with the children. Her first dislike was softened by pity whenshe found he was an invalid, but she troubled herself very littleabout him, and made no romances with him, for all her dreams were ofyounger, nobler lovers.

Busied with her own affairs, the days though monotonous were notunhappy. She prospered in her work and the children soon believed inher as devoutly as young Turks in their Prophet. She devisedamusements for herself as well as for them; walked, bathed, drove,and romped with the little people till her own eyes shone liketheirs, her cheek grew rosy, and her thin figure rounded with thepromise of vigorous health again.

Christie was at her best that summer, physically speaking, forsickness had refined her face, giving it that indescribableexpression which pain often leaves upon a countenance as if incompensation for the bloom it takes away. The frank eyes had asofter shadow in their depths, the firm lips smiled less often, butwhen it came the smile was the sweeter for the gravity that wentbefore, and in her voice there was a new undertone of that subtlemusic, called sympathy, which steals into the heart and nestlesthere.

She was unconscious of this gracious change, but others saw and feltit, and to some a face bright with health, intelligence, and modestywas more attractive than mere beauty. Thanks to this and her quiet,cordial manners, she found friends here and there to add charms tothat summer by the sea.

The dashing young men took no more notice of her than if she hadbeen a little gray peep on the sands; not so much, for they shotpeeps now and then, but a governess was not worth bringing down. Thefashionable belles and beauties were not even aware of herexistence, being too entirely absorbed in their yearly husband-huntto think of any one but themselves and their prey. The dowagers hadmore interesting topics to discuss, and found nothing in Christie'shumble fortunes worthy of a thought, for they liked their gossipstrong and highly flavored, like their tea.

But a kind-hearted girl or two found her out, several lively oldmaids, as full of the romance of the past as ancient novels, abashful boy, three or four invalids, and all the children, forChristie had a motherly heart and could find charms in the plainest,crossest baby that ever squalled.

Of her old friends she saw nothing, as her theatrical ones were offon their vacations, Hepsey had left her place for one in anothercity, and Aunt Betsey seldom wrote.

But one day a letter came, telling her that the dear old lady wouldnever write again, and Christie felt as if her nearest and dearestfriend was lost. She had gone away to a quiet spot among the rocksto get over her first grief alone, but found it very hard to checkher tears, as memory brought back the past, tenderly recalling everykind act, every loving word, and familiar scene. She seldom wept,but when any thing did unseal the fountains that lay so deep, shecried with all her heart, and felt the better for it.

With the letter crumpled in her hand, her head on her knees, and herhat at her feet, she was sobbing like a child, when steps startledher, and, looking up, she saw Mr. Fletcher regarding her with anastonished countenance from under his big sun umbrella.

Something in the flushed, wet face, with its tremulous lips andgreat tears rolling down, seemed to touch even lazy Mr. Fletcher,for he furled his umbrella with unusual rapidity, and came up,saying, anxiously:

"My dear Miss Devon, what's the matter? Are you hurt? Has Mrs. S.been scolding? Or have the children been too much for you?"

"No; oh, no! it's bad news from home," and Christie's head went downagain, for a kind word was more than she could bear just then.

"Some one ill, I fancy? I'm sorry to hear it, but you must hope forthe best, you know," replied Mr. Fletcher, really quite exertinghimself to remember and present this well-worn consolation.

"There is no hope; Aunt Betsey's dead!"

"Dear me! that's very sad."

Mr. Fletcher tried not to smile as Christie sobbed out theold-fashioned name, but a minute afterward there were actually tearsin his eyes, for, as if won by his sympathy, she poured out thehomely little story of Aunt Betsey's life and love, unconsciouslypronouncing the kind old lady's best epitaph in the unaffected griefthat made her broken words so eloquent.

For a minute Mr. Fletcher forgot himself, and felt as he rememberedfeeling long ago, when, a warm-hearted boy, he had comforted hislittle sister for a lost kitten or a broken doll. It was a newsensation, therefore interesting and agreeable while it lasted, andwhen it vanished, which it speedily did, he sighed, then shruggedhis shoulders and wished "the girl would stop crying like awater-spout."

"It's hard, but we all have to bear it, you know; and sometimes Ifancy if half the pity we give the dead, who don't need it, wasgiven to the living, who do, they'd bear their troubles morecomfortably. I know I should," added Mr. Fletcher, returning to hisown afflictions, and vaguely wondering if any one would cry likethat when he departed this life.

Christie minded little what he said, for his voice was pitiful andit comforted her. She dried her tears, put back her hair, andthanked him with a grateful smile, which gave him another pleasantsensation; for, though young ladies showered smiles upon him withmidsummer radiance, they seemed cool and pale beside the sweetsincerity of this one given by a girl whose eyes were red withtender tears.

"That's right, cheer up, take a little run on the beach, and forgetall about it," he said, with a heartiness that surprised himself asmuch as it did Christie.

"I will, thank you. Please don't speak of this; I'm used to bearingmy troubles alone, and time will help me to do it cheerfully."

"That's brave! If I can do any thing, let me know; I shall be mosthappy." And Mr. Fletcher evidently meant what he said.

Christie gave him another grateful "Thank you," then picked up herhat and went away along the sands to try his prescription; while Mr.Fletcher walked the other way, so rapt in thought that he forgot toput up his umbrella till the end of his aristocratic nose was burnta deep red.

That was the beginning of it; for when Mr. Fletcher found a newamusement, he usually pursued it regardless of consequences.Christie took his pity for what it was worth, and thought no more ofthat little interview, for her heart was very heavy. But heremembered it, and, when they met on the beach next day, wonderedhow the governess would behave. She was reading as she walked, and,with a mute acknowledgment of his nod, tranquilly turned a page andread on without a pause, a smile, or change of color.

Mr. Fletcher laughed as he strolled away; but Christie was all themore amusing for her want of coquetry, and soon after he tried heragain. The great hotel was all astir one evening with bustle, light,and music; for the young people had a hop, as an appropriateentertainment for a melting July night. With no taste for suchfolly, even if health had not forbidden it, Mr. Fletcher loungedabout the piazzas, tantalizing the fair fowlers who spread theirnets for him, and goading sundry desperate spinsters to despair byhis erratic movements. Coming to a quiet nook, where a long windowgave a fine view of the brilliant scene, he found Christie leaningin, with a bright, wistful face, while her hand kept time to theenchanting music of a waltz.

"Wisely watching the lunatics, instead of joining in their antics,"he said, sitting down with a sigh.

Christie looked around and answered, with the wistful look still inher eyes:

"I'm very fond of that sort of insanity; but there is no place forme in Bedlam at present."

"I daresay I can find you one, if you care to try it. I don'tindulge myself." And Mr. Fletcher's eye went from the rose inChristie's brown hair to the silvery folds of her best gown, put onmerely for the pleasure of wearing it because every one else was infestival array.

She shook her head. "No, thank you. Governesses are very kindlytreated in America; but ball-rooms like that are not for them. Ienjoy looking on, fortunately; so I have my share of fun after all."

"I shan't get any complaints out of her. Plucky little soul! Irather like that," said Mr. Fletcher to himself; and, finding hisseat comfortable, the corner cool, and his companion pleasant tolook at, with the moonlight doing its best for her, he went ontalking for his own satisfaction.

Christie would rather have been left in peace; but fancying that hedid it out of kindness to her, and that she had done him injusticebefore, she was grateful now, and exerted herself to seem so; inwhich endeavor she succeeded so well that Mr. Fletcher proved hecould be a very agreeable companion when he chose. He talked well;and Christie was a good listener. Soon interest conquered herreserve, and she ventured to ask a question, make a criticism, orexpress an opinion in her own simple way. Unconsciously she piquedthe curiosity of the man; for, though he knew many lovely, wise, andwitty women, he had never chanced to meet with one like this before;and novelty was the desire of his life. Of course he did not findmoonlight, music, and agreeable chat as delightful as she did; butthere was something animating in the fresh face opposite, somethingflattering in the eager interest she showed, and something mostattractive in the glimpses unconsciously given him of a naturegenuine in its womanly sincerity and strength. Something about thisgirl seemed to appeal to the old self, so long neglected that hethought it dead. He could not analyze the feeling, but was consciousof a desire to seem better than he was as he looked into thosehonest eyes; to talk well, that he might bring that frank smile tothe lips that grew either sad or scornful when he tried worldlygossip or bitter satire; and to prove himself a man under all theelegance and polish of the gentleman.

He was discovering then, what Christie learned when her turn came,that fine natures seldom fail to draw out the finer traits of thosewho approach them, as the little witch-hazel wand, even in the handof a child, detects and points to hidden springs in unsuspectedspots. Women often possess this gift, and when used worthily find itas powerful as beauty; for, if less alluring, it is more lasting andmore helpful, since it appeals, not to the senses, but the souls ofmen.

Christie was one of these; and in proportion as her own nature wassound and sweet so was its power as a touchstone for the genuinenessof others. It was this unconscious gift that made her wonder at theunexpected kindness she found in Mr. Fletcher, and this which madehim, for an hour or two at least, heartily wish he could live hislife over again and do it better.

After that evening Mr. Fletcher spoke to Christie when he met her,turned and joined her sometimes as she walked with the children, andfell into the way of lounging near when she sat reading aloud to aninvalid friend on piazza or sea-shore. Christie much preferred tohave no auditor but kind Miss Tudor; but finding the old ladyenjoyed his chat she resigned herself, and when he brought them newbooks as well as himself, she became quite cordial.

Everybody sauntered and lounged, so no one minded the little groupthat met day after day among the rocks. Christie read aloud, whilethe children revelled in sand, shells, and puddles; Miss Tudor spunendless webs of gay silk and wool; and Mr. Fletcher, with his hatover his eyes, lay sunning himself like a luxurious lizard, as hewatched the face that grew daily fairer in his sight, and listenedto the pleasant voice that went reading on till all his ills andennui seemed lulled to sleep as by a spell.

A week or two of this new caprice set Christie to thinking. She knewthat Uncle Philip was not fond of "the darlings;" it was evidentthat good Miss Tudor, with her mild twaddle and eternal knitting,was not the attraction, so she was forced to believe that he camefor her sake alone. She laughed at herself for this fancy at first;but not possessing the sweet unconsciousness of those heroines whocan live through three volumes with a burning passion before theireyes, and never see it till the proper moment comes, and Eugene goesdown upon his knees, she soon felt sure that Mr. Pletcher found hersociety agreeable, and wished her to know it.

Being a mortal woman, her vanity was flattered, and she foundherself showing that she liked it by those small signs and symbolswhich lovers' eyes are so quick to see and understand, - an artfulbow on her hat, a flower in her belt, fresh muslin gowns, and themost becoming arrangement of her hair.

"Poor man, he has so few pleasures I'm sure I needn't grudge himsuch a small one as looking at and listening to me if he likes it,"she said to herself one day, as she was preparing for her dailystroll with unusual care. "But how will it end? If he only wants amild flirtation he is welcome to it; but if he really cares for me,I must make up my mind about it, and not deceive him. I don'tbelieve he loves me: how can he? such an insignificant creature as Iam."

Here she looked in the glass, and as she looked the color deepenedin her cheek, her eyes shone, and a smile would sit upon her lips,for the reflection showed her a very winning face under thecoquettish hat put on to captivate.

"Don't be foolish, Christie! Mind what you do, and be sure vanitydoesn't delude you, for you are only a woman, and in tilings of thissort we are so blind and silly. I'll think of this possibilitysoberly, but I won't flirt, and then which ever way I decide I shallhave nothing to reproach myself with."

Armed with this virtuous resolution, Christie sternly replaced thepretty hat with her old brown one, fastened up a becoming curl,which of late she had worn behind her ear, and put on a pair ofstout, rusty boots, much fitter for rocks and sand than the smartslippers she was preparing to sacrifice. Then she trudged away toMiss Tudor, bent on being very quiet and reserved, as became a meekand lowly governess.

But, dear heart, how feeble are the resolutions of womankind! Whenshe found herself sitting in her favorite nook, with the wide, bluesea glittering below, the fresh wind making her blood dance in herveins, and all the earth and sky so full of summer life andloveliness, her heart would sing for joy, her face would shine withthe mere bliss of living, and underneath all this natural contentthe new thought, half confessed, yet very sweet, would whisper,"Somebody cares for me."

If she had doubted it, the expression of Mr. Fletcher's face thatmorning would have dispelled the doubt, for, as she read, he wassaying to himself: "Yes, this healthful, cheery, helpful creature iswhat I want to make life pleasant. Every thing else is used up; whynot try this, and make the most of my last chance? She does me good,and I don't seem to get tired of her. I can't have a long life, theytell me, nor an easy one, with the devil to pay with my vitalsgenerally; so it would be a wise thing to provide myself with agood-tempered, faithful soul to take care of me. My fortune wouldpay for loss of time, and my death leave her a bonny widow. I won'tbe rash, but I think I'll try it,"

With this mixture of tender, selfish, and regretful thoughts in hismind, it is no wonder Mr. Fletchcr's eyes betrayed him, as he laylooking at Christie. Never had she read so badly, for she could notkeep her mind on her book. It would wander to that new andtroublesome fancy of hers; she could not help thinking that Mr.Fletcher must have been a handsome man before he was so ill;wondering if his temper was very bad, and fancying that he mightprove both generous and kind and true to one who loved and servedhim well. At this point she was suddenly checked by a slip of thetongue that covered her with confusion.

She was reading "John Halifax," and instead of saying "PhineasFletcher" she said Philip, and then colored to her forehead, andlost her place. Miss Tudor did not mind it, but Mr. Fletcherlaughed, and Christie thanked Heaven that her face was half hiddenby the old brown hat.

Nothing was said, but she was much relieved to find that Mr.Fletcher had joined a yachting party next day and he would be awayfor a week. During that week Christie thought over the matter, andfancied she had made up her mind. She recalled certain speeches shehad heard, and which had more weight with her than she suspected.One dowager had said to another: "P. F. intends to marry, I assureyou, for his sister told me so, with tears in her eyes. Men who havebeen gay in their youth make very good husbands when their wild oatsare sowed. Clara could not do better, and I should be quite contentto give her to him."

"Well, dear, I should be sorry to see my Augusta his wife, forwhoever he marries will be a perfect slave to him. His fortune wouldbe a nice thing if he did not live long; but even for that myAugusta shall not be sacrificed," returned the other matron whoseAugusta had vainly tried to captivate "P. F.," and revenged herselfby calling him "a wreck, my dear, a perfect wreck."

At another time Christie heard some girls discussing the eligibilityof several gentlemen, and Mr. Fletcher was considered the best matchamong; them.

"You can do any thing you like with a husband a good deal older thanyourself. He's happy with his business, his club, and his dinner,and leaves you to do what you please; just keep him comfortable andhe'll pay your bills without much fuss," said one young thing whohad seen life at twenty.

"I'd take him if I had the chance, just because everybody wants him.Don't admire him a particle, but it will make a jolly stir wheneverhe does marry, and I wouldn't mind having a hand in it," said thesecond budding belle.

"I'd take him for the diamonds alone. Mamma says they are splendid,and have been in the family for ages. He won't let Mrs. S. wearthem, for they always go to the eldest son's wife. Hope he'll choosea handsome woman who will show them off well," said a third sweetgirl, glancing at her own fine neck.

"He won't; he'll take some poky old maid who will cuddle him when heis sick, and keep out of his way when he is well. See if he don't."

"I saw him dawdling round with old Tudor, perhaps he means to takeher: she's a capital nurse, got ill herself taking care of herfather, you know."

"Perhaps he's after the governess; she's rather nice looking, thoughshe hasn't a bit of style."

"Gracious, no! she's a dowdy thing, always trailing round with abook and those horrid children. No danger of his marrying her." Anda derisive laugh seemed to settle that question beyond a doubt.

"Oh, indeed!" said Christie, as the girls went trooping out of thebath-house, where this pleasing chatter had been carried onregardless of listeners. She called them "mercenary, worldly,unwomanly flirts," and felt herself much their superior. Yet thememory of their gossip haunted her, and had its influence upon herdecision, though she thought she came to it through her own goodjudgment and discretion.

"If he really cares for me I will listen, and not refuse till I knowhim well enough to decide. I'm tired of being alone, and shouldenjoy ease and pleasure so much. He's going abroad for the winter,and that would be charming. I'll try not to be worldly-minded andmarry without love, but it does look tempting to a poor soul likeme."

So Christie made up her mind to accept, if this promotion wasoffered her; and while she waited, went through so many alternationsof feeling, and was so harassed by doubts and fears that shesometimes found herself wishing it had never occurred to her.

Mr. Pletcher, meantime, with the help of many meditative cigars, wasmaking up his mind. Absence only proved to him how much he needed abetter time-killer than billiards, horses, or newspapers, for thelong, listless days seemed endless without the cheerful governess totone him up, like a new and agreeable sort of bitters. A graduallyincreasing desire to secure this satisfaction had taken possessionof him, and the thought of always having a pleasant companion, withno nerves, nonsense, or affectation about her, was an inviting ideato a man tired of fashionable follies and tormented with the ennuiof his own society.

The gossip, wonder, and chagrin such a step would cause ratherpleased his fancy; the excitement of trying almost the only thing asyet untried allured him; and deeper than all the desire to forgetthe past in a better future led him to Christie by the noblerinstincts that never wholly die in any soul. He wanted her as he hadwanted many other things in his life, and had little doubt that hecould have her for the asking. Even if love was not abounding,surely his fortune, which hitherto had procured him all he wished(except health and happiness) could buy him a wife, when his friendsmade better bargains every day. So, having settled the question, hecame home again, and every one said the trip had done him a world ofgood.

Christie sat in her favorite nook one bright September morning, withthe inevitable children hunting hapless crabs in a pool near by. Abook lay on her knee, but she was not reading; her eyes were lookingfar across the blue waste before her with an eager gaze, and herface was bright with some happy thought. The sound of approachingsteps disturbed her reverie, and, recognizing them, she plunged intothe heart of the story, reading as if utterly absorbed, till ashadow fell athwart the page, and the voice she had expected to hearasked blandly:

"What book now, Miss Devon?"

"'Jane Eyre,' sir."

Mr. Fletcher sat down just where her hat-brim was no screen, pulledoff his gloves, and leisurely composed himself for a comfortablelounge.

"What is your opinion of Rochester?" he asked, presently.

"Not a very high one."

"Then you think Jane was a fool to love and try to make a saint ofhim, I suppose?"

"I like Jane, but never can forgive her marrying that man, as Ihaven't much faith in the saints such sinners make."

"But don't you think a man who had only follies to regret mightexpect a good woman to lend him a hand and make him happy?"

"If he has wasted his life he must take the consequences, and becontent with pity and indifference, instead of respect and love.Many good women do 'lend a hand,' as you say, and it is quiteChristian and amiable, I 've no doubt; but I cannot think it a fairbargain."

Mr. Fletcher liked to make Christie talk, for in the interest of thesubject she forgot herself, and her chief charm for him was herearnestness. But just then the earnestness did not seem to suit him,and he said, rather sharply:

"What hard-hearted creatures you women are sometimes! Now, I fanciedyou were one of those who wouldn't leave a poor fellow to his fate,if his salvation lay in your hands."

"I can't say what I should do in such a case; but it always seemedto me that a man should have energy enough to save himself, and notexpect the 'weaker vessel,' as he calls her, to do it for him,"answered Christie, with a conscious look, for Mr. Fletcher's facemade her feel as if something was going to happen.

Evidently anxious to know what she would do in aforesaid case, Mr.Fletcher decided to put one before her as speedily as possible, sohe said, in a pensive tone, and with a wistful glance:

"You looked very happy just now when I came up. I wish I couldbelieve that my return had any thing to do with it."

Christie wished she could control her tell-tale color, but findingshe could not, looked hard at the sea, and, ignoring his tenderinsinuation, said, with suspicious enthusiasm:

"I was thinking of what Mrs. Saltonstall said this morning. Sheasked me if I would like to go to Paris with her for the winter. Ithas always been one of my dreams to go abroad, and I do hope I shallnot be disappointed."

Christie's blush seemed to be a truer answer than her words, and,leaning a little nearer, Mr. Fletcher said, in his most persuasivetone:

"Will you go to Paris as my governess, instead of Charlotte's?"

Christie thought her reply was all ready; but when the moment came,she found it was not, and sat silent, feeling as if that "Yes" wouldpromise far more than she could give. Mr. Fletcher had no doubt whatthe answer would be, and was in no haste to get it, for that was oneof the moments that are so pleasant and so short-lived they shouldbe enjoyed to the uttermost. He liked to watch her color come andgo, to see the asters on her bosom tremble with the quickenedbeating of her heart, and tasted, in anticipation, the satisfactionof the moment when that pleasant voice of hers would falter out itsgrateful assent. Drawing yet nearer, he went on, still in thepersuasive tone that would have been more lover-like if it had beenless assured.

"I think I am not mistaken in believing that you care for me alittle. You must know how fond I am of you, how much I need you, andhow glad I should be to give all I have if I might keep you alwaysto make my hard life happy. May I, Christie?"

"You would soon tire of me. I have no beauty, no accomplishments, nofortune, - nothing but my heart, and my hand to give the man I marry.Is that enough?" asked Christie, looking at him with eyes thatbetrayed the hunger of an empty heart longing to be fed with genuinefood.

But Mr. Fletcher did not understand its meaning; he saw the humilityin her face, thought she was overcome by the weight of the honor hedid her, and tried to reassure her with the gracious air of one whowishes to lighten the favor he confers.

"It might not be for some men, but it is for me, because I want youvery much. Let people say what they will, if you say yes I amsatisfied. You shall not regret it, Christie; I'll do my best tomake you happy; you shall travel wherever I can go with you, havewhat you like, if possible, and when we come back by and by, youshall take your place in the world as my wife. You will fill itwell, I fancy, and I shall be a happy man. I've had my own way allmy life, and I mean to have it now, so smile, and say, 'Yes,Philip,' like a sweet soul, as you are."

But Christie did not smile, and felt no inclination to say "Yes,Philip," for that last speech of his jarred on her ear. The tone ofunconscious condescension in it wounded the woman's sensitive pride;self was too apparent, and the most generous words seemed to herlike bribes. This was not the lover she had dreamed of, the brave,true man who gave her all, and felt it could not half repay thetreasure of her innocent, first love. This was not the happiness shehad hoped for, the perfect faith, the glad surrender, the sweetcontent that made all things possible, and changed this work-a-dayworld into a heaven while the joy lasted.

She had decided to say "yes," but her heart said "no" decidedly, andwith instinctive loyalty she obeyed it, even while she seemed toyield to the temptation which appeals to three of the strongestfoibles in most women's nature, - vanity, ambition, and the love ofpleasure.

"You are very kind, but you may repent it, you know so little ofme," she began, trying to soften her refusal, but sadly hindered bya feeling of contempt.

"I know more about you than you think; but it makes no difference,"interrupted Mr. Fletcher, with a smile that irritated Christie, evenbefore she understood its significance. "I thought it would atfirst, but I found I couldn't get on without you, so I made up mymind to forgive and forget that my wife had ever been an actress."

Christie had forgotten it, and it would have been well for him if hehad held his tongue. Now she understood the tone that had chilledher, the smile that angered her, and Mr. Fletcher's fate was settledin the drawing of a breath.

"Who told you that?" she asked, quickly, while every nerve tingledwith the mortification of being found out then and there in the onesecret of her life.

"I saw you dancing on the beach with the children one day, and itreminded me of an actress I had once seen. I should not haveremembered it but for the accident which impressed it on my mind.Powder, paint, and costume made 'Miss Douglas' a very differentwoman from Miss Devon, but a few cautious inquiries settled thematter, and I then understood where you got that slight soupcon ofdash and daring which makes our demure governess so charming whenwith me."

As he spoke, Mr. Fletcher smiled again, and kissed his hand to herwith a dramatic little gesture that exasperated Christie beyondmeasure. She would not make light of it, as he did, and submit to beforgiven for a past she was not ashamed of. Heartily wishing she hadbeen frank at first, she resolved to have it out now, and acceptnothing Mr. Fletcher offered her, not even silence.

"Yes," she said, as steadily as she could, "I was an actress forthree years, and though it was a hard life it was an honest one, andI'm not ashamed of it. I ought to have told Mrs. Saltonstall, but Iwas warned that if I did it would be difficult to find a place,people are so prejudiced. I sincerely regret it now, and shall tellher at once, so you may save yourself the trouble."

"My dear girl, I never dreamed of telling any one!" cried Mr.Fletcher in an injured tone. "I beg you won't speak, but trust me,and let it be a little secret between us two. I assure you it makesno difference to me, for I should marry an opera dancer if I chose,so forget it, as I do, and set my mind at rest upon the other point.I'm still waiting for my answer, you know."

"It is ready."

"A kind one, I'm sure. What is it, Christie?"

"No, I thank you."

"But you are not in earnest?"

"Perfectly so."

Mr. Fletcher got up suddenly and set his back against the rock,saying in a tone of such unaffected surprise and disappointment thather heart reproached her:

"NO, I THANK YOU."

"Am I to understand that as your final answer, Miss Devon?"

"Distinctly and decidedly my final answer, Mr, Pletcher."

Christie tried to speak kindly, but she was angry with herself andhim, and unconsciously showed it both in face and voice, for she wasno actress off the stage, and wanted to be very true just then as alate atonement for that earlier want of candor.

A quick change passed over Mr. Fletcher's face; his cold eyeskindled with an angry spark, his lips were pale with anger, and hisvoice was very bitter, as he slowly said:

"I've made many blunders in my life, and this is one of thegreatest; for I believed in a woman, was fool enough to care for herwith the sincerest love I ever knew, and fancied that she would begrateful for the sacrifice I made."

He got no further, for Christie rose straight up and answered himwith all the indignation she felt burning in her face and stirringthe voice she tried in vain to keep as steady as his own.

"The sacrifice would not have been all yours, for it is what we are,not what we have, that makes one human being superior to another. Iam as well-born as you in spite of my poverty; my life, I think, hasbeen a better one than yours; my heart, I know, is fresher, and mymemory has fewer faults and follies to reproach me with. What canyou give me but money and position in return for the youth andfreedom I should sacrifice in marrying you? Not love, for you countthe cost of your bargain, as no true lover could, and you reproachme for deceit when in your heart you know you only cared for mebecause I can amuse and serve you. I too deceived myself, I too seemy mistake, and I decline the honor you would do me, since it is sogreat in your eyes that you must remind me of it as you offer it."

In the excitement of the moment Christie unconsciously spoke withsomething of her old dramatic fervor in voice and gesture; Mr.Fletcher saw it, and, while he never had admired her so much, couldnot resist avenging himself for the words that angered him, the moredeeply for their truth. Wounded vanity and baffled will can make anungenerous man as spiteful as a woman; and Mr. Fletcher proved itthen, for he saw where Christie's pride was sorest, and touched thewound with the skill of a resentful nature.

As she paused, he softly clapped his hands, saying, with a smilethat made her eyes flash:

"Very well done! infinitely superior to your 'Woffington,' MissDevon. I am disappointed in the woman, but I make my compliment tothe actress, and leave the stage free for another and a moresuccessful Romeo." Still smiling, he bowed and went away apparentlyquite calm and much amused, but a more wrathful, disappointed mannever crossed those sands than the one who kicked his dog and sworeat himself for a fool that day when no one saw him.

For a minute Christie stood and watched him, then, feeling that shemust either laugh or cry, wisely chose the former vent for heremotions, and sat down feeling inclined to look at the whole scenefrom a ludicrous point of view.

"My second love affair is a worse failure than my first, for I didpity poor Joe, but this man is detestable, and I never will forgivehim that last insult. I dare say I was absurdly tragical, I'm apt tobe when very angry, but what a temper he has got! The white, coldkind, that smoulders and stabs, instead of blazing up and being overin a minute. Thank Heaven, I'm not his wife! Well, I've made anenemy and lost my place, for of course Mrs. Saltonstall won't keepme after this awful discovery. I'll tell her at once, for I willhave no 'little secrets' with him. No Paris either, and that's theworst of it all! Never mind, I haven't sold my liberty for theFletcher diamonds, and that's a comfort. Now a short scene with mylady and then exit governess."

But though she laughed, Christie felt troubled at the part she hadplayed in this affair; repented of her worldly aspirations;confessed her vanity; accepted her mortification and disappointmentas a just punishment for her sins; and yet at the bottom of herheart she did enjoy it mightily.

She tried to spare Mr. Fletcher in her interview with his sister,and only betrayed her own iniquities. But, to her surprise, Mrs.Saltonstall, though much disturbed at the discovery, valued Christieas a governess, and respected her as a woman, so she was willing tobury the past, she said, and still hoped Miss Devon would remain.

Then Christie was forced to tell her why it was impossible for herto do so; and, in her secret soul, she took a naughty satisfactionin demurely mentioning that she had refused my lord.

Mrs. Saltonstall's consternation was comical, for she had been soabsorbed in her own affairs she had suspected nothing; and horrorfell upon her when she learned how near dear Philip had been to thefate from which she jealously guarded him, that his property mightone day benefit the darlings.

In a moment every thing was changed; and it was evident to Christiethat the sooner she left the better it would suit madame. Theproprieties were preserved to the end, and Mrs. Saltonstall treatedher with unusual respect, for she had come to honor, and alsoconducted herself in a most praiseworthy manner. How she couldrefuse a Fletcher visibly amazed the lady; but she forgave theslight, and gently insinuated that "my brother" was, perhaps, onlyamusing himself.

Christie was but too glad to be off; and when Mrs. Saltonstall askedwhen she would prefer to leave, promptly replied, "To-morrow,"received her salary, which was forthcoming with unusual punctuality,and packed her trunks with delightful rapidity.

As the family was to leave in a week, her sudden departure caused nosurprise to the few who knew her, and with kind farewells to such ofher summer friends as still remained, she went to bed that night allready for an early start. She saw nothing more of Mr. Fletcher thatday, but the sound of excited voices in the drawing-room assured herthat madame was having it out with her brother; and with trulyfeminine inconsistency Christie hoped that she would not be too hardupon the poor man, for, after all, it was kind of him to overlookthe actress, and ask the governess to share his good things withhim.

She did not repent, but she got herself to sleep, imagining a bridaltrip to Paris, and dreamed so delightfully of lost splendors thatthe awakening was rather blank, the future rather cold and hard.

She was early astir, meaning to take the first boat and so escapeall disagreeable rencontres, and having kissed the children in theirlittle beds, with tender promises not to forget them, she took ahasty breakfast and stepped into the carriage waiting at the door.The sleepy waiters stared, a friendly housemaid nodded, and MissWalker, the hearty English lady who did her ten miles a day, criedout, as she tramped by, blooming and bedraggled:

"Bless me, are you off?"

"Yes, thank Heaven!" answered Christie; but as she spoke Mr.Fletcher came down the steps looking as wan and heavy-eyed as if asleepless night had been added to his day's defeat. Leaning in atthe window, he asked abruptly, but with a look she never couldforget:

"Will nothing change your answer, Christie?"

"Nothing."

His eyes said, "Forgive me," but his lips only said, "Good-by," andthe carriage rolled away.

Then, being a woman, two great tears fell on the hand still red withthe lingering grasp he had given it, and Christie said, as pitifullyas if she loved him:

"He has got a heart, after all, and perhaps I might have been gladto fill it if he had only shown it to me sooner. Now it is toolate."