I thought; he was short, but thick-set and sturdy looking, with a large brown beard, good eyes and forehead, and a pleasant smiling face. He did not seem at all discomposed at finding us all, and bowed quietly round before he sat down to take his tea, but I noticed that ever and anon his eyes wandered to Eleanor, who still continued standing with a cloud gathering over her face.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Curtis," I said, "that we did not send for you, but the pony was lame, and-"

"I think we have heard quite enough about that," burst from Eleanor ; our horses are not the only ones in creation; Mr. Curtis was free to drive or walk,—to judge by his boots, I suppose he chose the latter alternative."

I saw Herbert and Lucy interchange glances, and felt hot and ashamed, for when Eleanor lost her temper there was no telling what she might say or do; and the Beaumaris blood was rising in Tristram now, he stood up indignantly. "How dare you be so rude, Eleanor ! it was very selfish of you to go out riding when I told you the horse was wanted; and the speech you have just made is intolerable."

In an unguarded moment Eleanor raised her whip, and I thought she would have struck her brother, but the next instant she lowered it, and grasping the coral handle, suddenly broke it in two, flung the pieces down, and marched out of the room, eyes dilated, and nostrils expanded.

There was dead silence. At last Mr. Curtis said cheerfully, "Miss Beaumaris was right about my boots, I am not fit to come into a lady's drawing-room after my muddy walk; but the hope of tea overcame me."

I felt so thankful to him for that little speech, it put us at our ease again; and soon after the Deverils rose to go. John was busy, so Herbert went round to get the horses, and as I stood inside the hall door to watch them off, I heard him say to his sister while he helped her to mount, "I don't feel at all tempted to play the part of Petruchio."

Poor Eleanor, I was sure she had a good heart and a noble nature, and yet how dearly was this indulged temper costing her. It was her way I found, after an ebullition to shut herself into her room for hours, and I was rather surprised when Elizabeth came to me as I sat in the drawing-room after dinner, and asked if I would go to Eleanor who wanted to speak to me.

I obeyed willingly. Tristram and his tutor were still in the diningroom. I must own to having felt some curiosity about this room which Eleanor so carefully guarded. I knocked at the door twice, and receiving no answer, I opened it and went in. There was a soft sunset glow coming through the window, which faced west, the floor was carpetless and stained black, and a small bed stood in one corner. The most conspicuous object in the room, and one which almost startled me on entering, was a large crucifix with the figure of our LORD coloured to represent life, and a great wax taper burning on either side. I found Eleanor pacing the room, her hair fallen about her in tumbled masses, her eyes bloodshot with crying.

"My poor child,” I said, the tears rising as I looked at her.

"Aunt Mary," she cried, coming up to me, “what shall I do! oh, do help me! I have disgraced myself so, I would give the world—no, that means nothing-I will do anything you tell me, to punish myself. Will you help me, Aunt Mary? I have asked GOD to forgive me and to help me, but I have done that so often before."

Her eyes were quite swimming in tears, I put my arm round her,—it was a new and pleasant sensation to have Eleanor clinging to me,—she went on, "I have thought of a penance, shall I go and beg his pardon, I can make myself do even that if you think it right."

I considered a moment, and then entering into her vein said, "No, as you have made the effort, I will dispense you from that and make your apologies myself. My penance is that you get into bed, take some food, go to sleep, and let us have no more discussion till to-morrow morning; do not even admit Elizabeth—you never treat yourself to a fire, I see," for the small grate was empty.

'No, because if I did I should never get to bed, and I hate being late in the mornings,—stay while I undress, Aunt Mary.”

I assented, and then turned to examine her book-shelves,—she had a quaint collection, several volumes by Faber and Newman, Jeremy Taylor's works, and a good deal of poetry.

‘Aunt Mary, I must have worried you very much," Eleanor said presently," and you are so good and patient and gentle. I hated the thought of your coming here, and now I could not bear to lose you, —I have tried not to like you, but I can't help it."

And I can't help liking you," I said smiling; " but how came you to get all these Romish books, my dear ?"

"In the same way that Bess got hers, auntie; we both sent for what we liked."

"I think your collection wants a little weeding too," I observed; "but what made you so cross with me the other day when hers were banished, I thought you disliked them as much as I did ?"

"Yes, indeed, Aunt Mary, but I thought-don't be angry-that you would make mischief between us and papa, and Bess was so sulky and miserable she rather infected me, but I trust you now, and I will obey you just as I do my father, I will indeed."

We settled the compact with a kiss, and finding both her hands and feet very cold, I recommended bed and a hot bottle, and went down to find Rebecca and send her up some food. I had no opportunity of conveying her apology to Mr. Curtis that evening; he was amusing Tristram, I found, in the drawing-room, by some stories of his Oxford life. The excitement of the afternoon's scene had rather wearied me, and I was glad to sit back and listen to his talk. He was a powerful man I could feel, and he looked clever, and seemed gentle, just the kind of friend I needed in that turbulent household.

As I lighted Tristram's candle he confided to me that "this fellow had a deal more go in him than old Adams," and went to bed with a brighter look than his face had worn since I came.

I felt grateful to the new tutor already as I wished him “ good night." It seemed, to pursue my morning simile, that the firm hand needed by the restive horse was being at length placed on the bridle-rein.

CHAPTER V.

BY THE FIRE.

CHRISTMAS was coming close upon us now, and my nieces were looking forward to it eagerly, though I am sorry to say from no higher motive than the anticipation of two or three parties, which some families in the neighbourhood bestirred themselves to give at that season.

The Deverils had a large gathering on Christmas Eve, both Mr. Curtis and myself were specially included in the invitation, but as Brian had consented to escort his daughters I was thankful to be able to decline. "I suppose I may accept for you," I said to Mr. Curtis, who came

in while I was writing the note.

"Let me see, for Christmas Eve was it not, Miss Staunton? Then I must say no too; I have a particular reason for not going."

"Not going!" exclaimed Eleanor; "oh, Mr. Curtis, they want gentlemen so much, I heard Mrs. Deveril say, if not a young man, an old man, or even a biggish boy would be better than nothing. I never thought of your refusing; we are to dance in the hall, and it will be lovely."

There was a regretful look in his dark eyes, as he fixed them on her animated face, but he said firmly, "I am truly sorry, Miss Beaumaris, I should have enjoyed it as much as any one, but I have always been accustomed to spend Christmas Eve at home as long as I had one, and on last Christmas Eve I lost my father."

Eleanor's face grew grave and sympathising, involuntarily she held out her hand, "I did not know, indeed I am very sorry, try and not be too sad, you will have Aunt Mary to comfort you."

Curiously enough I had never yet found an opportunity of conveying to Mr. Curtis Eleanor's apology for her fit of passion, and my unfulfilled promise weighed on me.

Christmas Eve came, and Brian started, looking proud of, and pleased with, his handsome daughters; Tristram, poor boy, had a bad cold, and made an early retreat to bed; and so it came to pass that Mr. Curtis and I sat over the same fire and had one of those long talks which do more to bring people together than months of casual inter

course.

He had already begun to interest me greatly, Brian deemed himself extremely fortunate to have secured his services, if only for a short time, for he was a man of good family, highly educated, and with fine intellectual powers. I thought him quite handsome, with his fine eyes, broad forehead, and pleasant genial manners, though my nieces laughed at his want of inches. He was reserved about himself, as Englishmen usually are, but he opened out a little that night, and I found that his father's death had left him almost alone in the world. He had a little money, and would come into more at the death of an unknown Indian uncle. What he really wished to do on leaving Oxford was to get a public schoolmastership as soon as possible, and he had a good chance of one at R— on the next vacancy. Meanwhile he was introduced to Brian, who was on the look-out for a tutor, and "I dare say you will think me a romantic fool, Miss Staunton," he said, "but there was something in his face which reminded me of my dear old father, and I felt I must do what I could to help him. I told him he could only look on me as a temporary

assistant, for if I do get a chance at R, I can't afford to lose it, that is the why and wherefore of my coming here."

"I thought there must be something to account for our good fortune," I said, "and I am sure you are doing a good work here, though I am afraid you must have thought your reception a stormy one. Eleanor has asked me to apologise to you for the way she behaved the afternoon of your arrival, I ought to have done it before."

tr

'Indeed my only remembrance was that she looked uncommonly beautiful, which could not be said of many people under the circumstances. What a pity it is, Miss Staunton, she lets that fine mind of hers lie so fallow,-the little tempers she has are the result of waste of brain power I truly believe."

"If you would rouse her up," I said, forgetting prudence at the moment; "I unfortunately have so very little brain power myself—"

"You will give me leave to try," he rejoined eagerly, "if she might join in Tristram's studies, it would give him the stimulus he wants, and do her no end of good."

Just then our talk was silenced by the shrill young voices of the carol singers, and we both listened with full hearts to "While shepherds watched," and then brought them inside, and they sang in the hall, and after some refreshment went happily away, while their good Christmas wishes seemed to linger behind them. Then I turned to bid my companion good night, for I felt a long vigil would quite unfit me for the keeping of Christmas Day. Mr. Curtis declared he would rather stay up till the others came home, so after enjoining him to keep a good fire, and dismissing the servants, I retired.

I felt rather dull on Christmas morning, and disposed to think murmuringly of the very different services I should have been able to attend in my old home. Not one of the party goers was down to breakfast, though Brian and Eleanor appeared in time for Church, and we started in fuller force than usual. A few bunches of holly stuck about, and the dear old Christmas hymns and lessons did something to cheer me, and the service which followed more. I had a pang when my brother-in-law and Tristram rose to leave before that service began, but I managed to put even that pain aside, by pouring it all out in the fulness of my heart in the long pause that followed the Consecration prayer.

We three, Mr. Curtis, Eleanor, and myself, walked home quietly and happily. "I don't think I shall go to another Christmas Eve