CHAPTER IV.


NO HOLIDAY TO-DAY.

"Now, Constance, that we have a moment alone, what is this about you?"
began Mr. Yorke, as they stood together in the garden.

"Annabel said the truth--that I do think of going out as daily
governess," she replied, bending over a carnation to hide the blush
which rose to her cheeks, a very rival to the blushing flower. "It is a
great misfortune that has fallen upon us--at least we can only look at
it in that light at present, and will, beyond doubt, be productive of
some embarrassment. Do you not see, William, that it is incumbent upon
us all to endeavour to lighten this embarrassment, those of us who can
do so? I must assume my share of the burden."

Mr. Yorke was silent. Constance took it for granted that he was
displeased. He was of an excellent family, and she supposed he disliked
the step she was about to take--deemed it would be derogatory to his
future wife.

"Have you fully made up your mind?" he at length asked.

"Yes. I have talked it over with mamma--for indeed she and I both seem
to have anticipated this--and she thinks with me, that it is what I