here, we shall be very much pleased to see Miss Crofton again.'

I thanked her, kissed Milly once more, and so departed--to be driven
to the station in state in the barouche, and to look sadly back at
the noble old house in which I had been so happy.

Once more I returned to the dryasdust routine of Albury Lodge, and
rang the changes upon history and geography, chronology and English
grammar, physical science and the elements of botany, until my weary
head ached and my heart grew sick. And when I came to be a
governess, it would of course be the same thing over and over again,
on a smaller scale. And this was to be my future, without hope of
change or respite, until I grew an old woman worn-out with the
drudgery of tuition!


CHAPTER V.


MILLY'S LETTER.


The half-year wore itself slowly away. There were no incidents to
mark the time, no change except the slow changes of the seasons; and
my only pleasures were letters from home or from Emily Darrell.

Of the home letters I will not speak--they could have no interest
except for myself; but Milly's are links in the story of a life. She
wrote to me as freely as she had talked to me, pouring out all her
thoughts and fancies with that confiding frankness which was one of