round to her. She kept a sharp lookout ahead; but all her warnings of coming perils only caused him to give a moment's attention to the horses and the reins, before he again turned backwards to resume his discourse. In the town, his head was more in the right direction, for he was nodding and returning greetings every moment; he seemed to have a bowing acquaintance with all the world, and when he drew up at the station, reached down several times to shake hands with figures whom his father would barely have acknowledged; exchanging good- humoured inquiries or congratulations with almost every third person.
Scarcely had the train dashed up before Mrs. Ponsonby was startled by a shout of 'He's there himself! Louis! Louis!' and felt, as well as saw, the springing ascent to the box of a tall apparition, in a scanty lilac cotton dress, an outgrown black mantle, and a brown straw bonnet, scarcely confining an overprofusion of fair hair. Louis let go the reins to catch hold of both hands, and cry, 'Well, old Giraffe! what have you done with Jem?'
'Seeing to the luggage! You won't let him turn me out! I must sit here!'
'You must have manners,' said Louis; 'look round, and speak rationally to Mrs. Ponsonby.'
'I never saw she was there!' and slightly colouring, the 'Giraffe' erected her length, turned round a small insignificant face slightly freckled, with hazel eyes, as light as if they had been grey; and stretched down a hand to be shaken by her new relation, but she was chiefly bent on retaining her elevation.
'There, Jem!' she cried exultingly, as he came forth, followed by the trunks and portmanteaus.
'Madcap!' he said; 'but I suppose the first day of the holidays must be privileged. Ha! Fitzjocelyn, you're the right man in the right place, whatever Clara is.'
So they drove off, James sitting by Mrs. Ponsonby, and taking care to inform her that, in spite of her preposterous height, Clara was only sixteen, he began to ask anxious questions as to Fitzjocelyn's recovery, while she looked up at the pair in front, and thought, from the appearance of things, that even Louis's tongue was more than rivalled, for the newcomer seemed to say a sentence in the time he took in saying a word. Poor Mrs. Ponsonby! she would not have been happier had she known in which pair of hands the reins were!
'And Louis! how are you?' cried Clara, as soon as this point had been gained; 'are you able to walk?'
'After a fashion.'
'And does your ankle hurt you?'
'Only if I work it too hard. One would think that lounging had become a virtue instead of a vice, to hear the way I am treated.'
'You look-' began Clara. 'But oh, Louis!' cried she, in a sort of hesitating wonder, 'what! a moustache?'
'Don't say a word:' he lowered his voice. 'Riding is against orders, but I cannot miss the Yeomanry, under the present aspect of affairs.'
'The invasion! A man in the train was talking of the war steamers, but Jem laughed. Do you believe in it?'
'It is a time when a display of loyalty and national spirit may turn the scale. I am resolved to let no trifle prevent me from doing my part,' he said, colouring with enthusiasm.
'You are quite right,' cried Clara. 'You ought to take your vassals, like a feudal chief! I am sure the defence of one's country ought to outweigh everything.'
'Exactly so. Our volunteer forces are our strength and glory, and are a happy meeting of all classes in the common cause. But say nothing, Clara, or granny will take alarm, and get an edict from Walby against me.'
'Dear granny! But I wish we were going home to the Terrace.'
'Thank you. How flattering!'
'You would be always in and out, and it would be so much more comfortable. Is Lord Ormersfield at home?'
'No, he will not come till legislation can bear London no longer.'
'Oh!'-with a sound of great relief.
'You don't know how kind he has been,' said Louis, eagerly. 'You will find it out when you are in the house with him.'
Clara laughed, but sighed. 'I think we should have had more fun at home.'
'What! than with me for your host? Try what I can do. Besides, you overlook Mary.'
'But she has been at school!'
'Well!'
'I didn't bargain for school-girls at home!'
'I should not have classed Mary in that category.'
'Don't ask me to endure any one who has been at school! Oh, Louis! if you could only guess-if you would only speak to Jem not to send me back to that place-'
'Aunt Kitty will not consent, I am sure, if you are really unhappy there, my poor Clara.'
'No! no! I am ordered not to tell granny. It would only vex her, and Jem says it must be. I don't want her to be vexed, and if I tell you, I may be able to keep it in!'
Out poured the whole flood of troubles, unequal in magnitude, but most trying to the high-spirited girl. Formal walks, silent meals, set manners, perpetual French, were a severe trial, but far worse was the companionship. Petty vanities, small disputes, fretful jealousies, insincere tricks, and sentimental secrets, seemed to Clara a great deal more contemptible than the ignorance, indolence, abrupt manners and boyish tastes which brought her into constant disgrace-and there seemed to be one perpetual chafing and contradiction, which made her miserable. And a further confidence could not help following, though with a warning that Jem must not hear it, for she did not mind, and he spent every farthing on her that he could afford. She had been teased about her dress, told that her friends were mean and shabby, and rejected as a walking companion, because she had no parasol, and that was vulgar.
'I am sure I wanted to walk with none of them,' said Clara, 'and when our English governess advised me to get one, I told her I would give in to no such nonsense, for only vulgar people cared about them. Such a scrape I got into! Well, then Miss Salter, whose father is a knight, and who thinks herself the great lady of the school, always bridled whenever she saw me, and, at last, Lucy Raynor came whispering up, to beg that I would contradict that my grandmamma kept a school, for Miss Salter was so very particular.'
'I should like to have heard your contradiction.'
'I never would whisper, least of all to Lucy Raynor, so I stood up in the midst, and said, as clear as I could, that my grandmother had always earned an honest livelihood by teaching little boys, and that I meant to do the same, for nothing would ever make me have anything to do with girls.'
'That spoilt it,' said Louis-'the first half was dignified.'
'What was the second?'
'Human nature,' said Louis.
'I see,' said Clara. 'Well, they were famously scandalized, and that was all very nice, for they let me alone. But you brought far worse on me, Louis.'
'I!'
'Ay! 'Twas my own fault, though, but I couldn't help it. You must know, they all are ready to bow down to the ninety-ninth part of a Lord's little finger; and Miss Brown-that's the teacher-always reads all the fashionable intelligence as if it were the Arabian Nights, and imparts little bits to Miss Salter and her pets; and so it was that I heard, whispered across the table, the dreadful accident to Viscount Fitzjocelyn!'
'Did nobody write to you?'
'Yes-I had a letter from granny, and another from Jem by the next morning's post, or I don't know what I should have done. Granny was too busy to write at first; I didn't three parts believe it before, but there was no keeping in at that first moment.'
'What did you do?'
'I gave one great scream, and flew at the newspaper. The worst was, that I had to explain, and then-oh! it was enough to make one sick. Why had I not said I was Lord Ormersfield's cousin? I turned into a fine aristocratic- looking girl on the spot! Miss Salter came and fondled, and wanted me to walk with her!'
'Of course; she had compassion on your distress-amiable feeling!'
'She only wanted to ask ridiculous questions, whether you were handsome.'
'What did you reply?'
'I told them not a word, except that my brother was going to be your tutor. When I saw Miss Salter setting off by this line, I made Jem take second-class tickets, that she might be ashamed of me.'
'My dear Giraffe, bend down your neck, and don't take such a commonplace, conventional view of your
