creations, and slow movements and a cramped will, in exchange for a royal liberty of foot and fancy.

In her earlier days the woe of the little heart found its comfort in tears, and, the passion of the moment over, the child would content itself, child-fashion, with whatever materials for amusement might lie in the way. But when a few years had passed, and an unusual capacity for grief had grown stronger within her, the sudden change in her life became more painful, the conversations of her schoolfellows more irksome; tears were less frequent with her, but a grave trouble grew up in her young life, the trouble of not knowing where her place was to be in the world. For with a true instinct Hester felt early that she had won no place in Lady Humphrey's heart, that her footing on that enchanted hearthstone under the palace roof was dependent on the humour of each moment that passed. And with a sure foreboding, she felt that any day might find her shaken off and forgotten.

CHAPTER II

HESTER, SOMEWHAT LATER

WHEN Hester was twelve years old, she had rather advanced in Lady Humphrey's favour. Her progress in learning had pleased the lady, and she had sent her to a better school. The gratitude of the little girl was unbounded, and her efforts to profit by the boon incessant. To-day she is bending over a book in a schoolroom-flushed, eager; her frock out at elbows, her shoes broken, her stockings overrun with darns. Tomorrow she will be at the palace, and there must be a brave list of triumphs for Lady Humphrey. A medal is to be won, and some solemn books, and Lady Humphrey will look pleased. She will not smile much; but she will put on a satisfield look, and say approvingly, "Hester, you will be of use for something yet. And the vague promise of that something in prospect is sweet to Hester as the birds in the boughs.

And a fresh white frock will be handed to Hester, and it will be delicately frilled and crimped; and there will be, if not exactly glass slippers, at least pretty ones of black silk with shining buckles. And there will be Shakespeare on the drawingroom table, the mark in its pages never moved since Hester closed the volume last holiday. And she will nestle in the firelight by the glittering hearthplace with the book. And perhaps she will suddenly start to find that unconsciously her fancy had been clothing Lady Macbeth with the outward

form and features of Lady Humphrey. And she will shudder and veil her eyes, lest her patroness should read the cruel libel in her glance. But the lady does not think of her so often, nor look at her so closely as to notice when a cloud or a shining light is to be seen on her eager face.

Then in the evening the stiff brocade curtains (so different from Miss Hemisphere's dull green damask) will be drawn across the windows, and the wax candles will be lit all through the wide chambers, and the fire will pour its ruddy splendour over the curious andirons, burning grandly and with dignity, as a fire should burn under the roof where kings and queens have made their home. And the few dark pictures on the walls will retire farther than ever into obscurity, and only just peer in ghostly fashion from their frames. On the table in the corner with its cover of Indian embroidery, will be set forth the tiny exquisite service of china and silver in which Lady Humphrey is wont to dispense tea to her guests. And the lady's little page in his fantastic costume will be tripping about, arranging seats in expectation of visitors. Lady Humphrey does not see company on an extended scale however. A few antique beaux and dowagers will drink her coffee and play whist at her card tables. And of these, though Hester has seen them coming and going for years, and knows every nodding powdered head and painted smirk by heart, as she does the pictures in the gallery, yet she recognises the identity of not a single one amongst them. They are all illustrious personages of history, the guests of bygone kings.

The first blush of morning will find her abroad, encountering his dread majesty upon the king's staircase. For the fierce Henry and his great cardinal walking about Hampton Court are as familiar to her as Miss Hemisphere or Lady Humphrey. Elizabeth will hold a pageant at high noon in the greenwood, and later, Lady Jane Grey reveals herself, musing in some quiet haunt, weaving herself and her sorrows into a poem for the reading of ages. And when twilight comes on, and the trees stand shadowless in the cool air, and the crimson begins to grow brown, and the violet black, in the darkening window of the great hall, then Hester, returning homeward by some shrouded alley, where the walls of olive foliage are draped in a purple mist, and unseen birds sing lullabies to all nature, will find a weird ghostly troop coming out to meet her. Anne Boleyn is here in all her splendour, and the hoary trees sigh and shake their heads as she goes past. Wicked Henry, too, strides along, frowning, with the ghost of a murdered wife on either hand. There is a shadow and a whisper of every

heart-broken thing that ever might have stolen from the gilded prison of that palace, to flutter wild about here with its anguish, sobbing to the singing of these nightingales. Thus ghouls and gnomes have grown up within the paradise.

It was at this time of her life that Hester gathered up all her childish strength and made an effort to crave the love of her protectress. It was not much for a child to ask, but it was too much for the woman to bestow. And who shall blame her? That which one has not got, how shall one give it away? Hester arrived one day breathless and panting, her arms full of prizes, a medal in her hand. She could not speak, but emptied the treasures in Lady Humphrey's lap.

Softly, softly, child!" said Lady Humphrey. "Such sudden movements are very unladylike. Now take these things away. I am quite content. This is nothing but what I have expected."

And this was nothing but what Hester had expected also, yet her heart was crying out for something more. She went swiftly and suddenly down on her knees, and with passionate tears besought that the dear madam would love her, "just a little." And then she knelt trembling and sobbing in terror at her own boldness.

"Hester!" said Lady Humphrey, in her iciest tones, "I beg that you will not make yourself ridiculous. I had hoped that you had given up these childish vagaries. What more would you have than I give you? There is no one in the world from whom you have the right to claim sixpence, and yet I feed you, clothe you, and keep you at school."

"Yes," said Hester, suddenly checking her wild sobs, and becoming quite still.

"You cannot expect these favours to continue all your life. It is better, then, for you to make much of them while they last, than to disturb yourself about nothing, crying like a great baby for more than you can get."

"

Yes," said Hester, more steadily.

"And let me warn you," added Lady Humphrey, quite aroused by the successful impression she was making, "that people who go through the world moaning about love, are only pretty sure to get laughed at for their pains. So take these things away, child, and go and wash your face,"

And Hester took up her hard-won prizes and packed them all away into a dark corner. And she came back with a very quiet face, and nothing more was said upon the subject.

But there was a difference in Hester from that hour forth, and after three silent days she spoke again.

"Lady Humphrey," she said, "will you tell me, please, what is to become of me when I am grown up?'

Lady Humphrey paused a few moments before she answered, as if considering the child attentively, her age, her manner, and her possible meaning. Then she said,

"I believe you will have to earn your bread."

"How am I to earn it, please, my lady?" said little Hester, eagerly.

"As a teacher, perhaps," said Lady Humphrey; "if I can afford to keep you long enough at school. Perhaps as a dressmaker."

Hester lowered her head, and retired, without a word, to her seat in the corner. Her eyes wandered round the handsome chamber, and her fingers went feeling to her dainty pearl necklace round her throat. Gradually she unloosed the fastenings as she sat, and the ornament lay glistening in her lap for a silent hour. Then she was again at the lady's elbow with the necklace in her hand.

"I would rather not wear this any more," she said.

"What do you mean, you strange creature?" said Lady Humphrey, rather provoked and much surprised. "But you must wear it," she added. "I intend that you shall wear it at my pleasure. Put it on."

Hester obeyed, but still kept standing, as if all had not been said. Her hands were pressed together, so were her lips. The lady went on writing, as forgetting the child's

presence.

"If you please, Lady Humphrey, may I go back to school

to-morrow?

"What now?" said Lady Humphrey, frowning darkly, "Will you tell me what is the meaning of this new idea? "If you please, Lady Humphrey, I would rather be a teacher."

"You shall at all times do just as I command you," said her ladyship, in her hardest tones. "Leave the room now, to begin with."

And Hester vanished at the word, and sought refuge among the pictures, weeping bitterly to her dear Mary Stuart.

After this she made rapid progress at her studies, and was left a whole year undisturbed in her schoolroom. At the end of that time Lady Humphrey had need for her, and sent for her to come to Hampton Court. A carriage had arrived at Miss Hemisphere's door, and the coachman had a note for the schoolmistress. Hester was packed into the coach without delay, and went wondering all the way to her destination. Lady

Humphrey met her with more feeling in her manner than Hester had ever seen in it before.

"My son," she explained, "is shut up in a dark room yonder. His eyes have been injured by a hot blast in India and he is not allowed to see. You must read to him, amuse him, help him to pass the time."

Hester promised to do her best, and was taken to the darkened chamber. Poor Pierce was extended upon a sofa, with his head tied up in bandages. Nothing was to be seen of his face, but a very rueful mouth and some black hair. Hester was obliged to make herself and her errand known, for Lady Humphrey was with the doctors in the drawing

room.

Please, Mr. Humphrey," said Hester, "I am come to amuse you.

"

The rueful mouth broke into a broad smile. "Are you, indeed?" it said; "I am glad to hear it, I am sure; and I must say you have made a very fair beginning. And who are you, might I ask?"

My name is Hester," said the girl, "and I come from Miss Hemisphere's school."

"Ah, little Hester! Well, you know I can't see you, but shake hands, little woman. Yes, that's a nice soft little hand, and I don't like the handling I get here, I can tell you. Nobody fit for a nurse to be had in these quarters, and the least jerk gives such confounded pain. You shall tie all my bandages, little Hester."

"Yes," said the little girl, and was as good as her word. And the young gentleman and she became great friends after that. She read him to sleep sometimes, and talked to him when he liked, and was a great little mother to Pierce Humphrey. And the young man, who was a kindly young man, grew very fond of her, though he had never seen her face.

"I think you love me very much, little Hester," he said to her one day.

"Why?" asked Hester, in a wondering voice.

"Why? because you are so good to me," said the soldier. "Confess, do you not love me very much?

"I like you as much as ever I can," said Hester, earnestly. The young man bit his lip and reddened. The answer was not quite what he expected.

Come!" he said, "what fault do you find with me? Am I not a handsome fellow enough?"

"You are very handsome," said Hester, gravely. "I never saw any one so handsome before."