The house inhabited by Miss Ladd and her pupils had been built,in the early part of the present century, by a wealthymerchant--proud of his money, and eager to distinguish himself asthe owner of the largest country seat in the neighborhood.

After his death, Miss Ladd had taken Netherwoods (as the placewas called), finding her own house insufficient for theaccommodation of the increasing number of her pupils. A lease wasgranted to her on moderate terms. Netherwoods failed to attractpersons of distinction in search of a country residence. Thegrounds were beautiful; but no landed property--not even apark--was attached to the house. Excepting the few acres on whichthe building stood, the surrounding land belonged to a retirednaval officer of old family, who resented the attempt of amerchant of low birth to assume the position of a gentleman. Nomatter what proposals might be made to the admiral, he refusedthem all. The privilege of shooting was not one of theattractions offered to tenants; the country presented nofacilities for hunting; and the only stream in the neighborhoodwas not preserved. In consequence of these drawbacks, themerchant's representatives had to choose between a proposal touse Netherwoods as a lunatic asylum, or to accept as tenant therespectable mistress of a fashionable and prosperous school. Theydecided in favor of Miss Ladd.

The contemplated change in Francine's position was accomplished,in that vast house, without inconvenience. There were roomsunoccupied, even when the limit assigned to the number of pupilshad been reached. On the re-opening of the school, Francine wasoffered her choice between two rooms on one of the upper stories,and two rooms on the ground floor. She chose these last.

Her sitting-room and bedroom, situated at the back of the house,communicated with each other. The sitting-room, ornamented with apretty paper of delicate gray, and furnished with curtains of thesame color, had been accordingly named, "The Gray Room." It had aFrench window, which opened on the terrace overlooking the gardenand the grounds. Some fine old engravings from the grandlandscapes of Claude (part of a collection of prints possessed byMiss Ladd's father) hung on the walls. The carpet was in harmonywith the curtains; and the furniture was of light-colored wood,which helped the general effect of subdued brightness that madethe charm of the room. "If you are not happy here," Miss Laddsaid, "I despair of you." And Francine answered, "Yes, it's verypretty, but I wish it was not so small."

On the twelfth of August the regular routine of the school wasresumed. Alban Morris found two strangers in his class, to fillthe vacancies left by Emily and Cecilia. Mrs. Ellmother was dulyestablished in her new place. She produced an unfavorableimpression in the servants' hall--not (as the handsome chiefhousemaid explained) because she was ugly and old, but becauseshe was "a person who didn't talk." The prejudice againsthabitual silence, among the lower order of the people, is almostas inveterate as the prejudice against red hair.

In the evening, on that first day of renewed studies--while thegirls were in the grounds, after tea--Francine had at lastcompleted the arrangement of her rooms, and had dismissed Mrs.Ellmother (kept hard at work since the morning) to take a littlerest. Standing alone at her window, the West Indian heiresswondered what she had better do next. She glanced at the girls onthe lawn, and decided that they were unworthy of serious notice,on the part of a person so specially favored as herself. Sheturned sidewise, and looked along the length of the terrace. Atthe far end a tall man was slowly pacing to and fro, with hishead down and his hands in his pockets. Francine recognized therude drawing-master, who had torn up his view of the village,after she had saved it from being blown into the pond.

She stepped out on the terrace, and called to him. He stopped,and looked up.

"Do you want me?" he called back.

"Of course I do!"

She advanced a little to meet him, and offered encouragementunder the form of a hard smile. Although his manners might beunpleasant, he had claims on the indulgence of a young lady, whowas at a loss how to employ her idle time. In the first place, hewas a man. In the second place, he was not as old as themusic-master, or as ugly as the dancing-master. In the thirdplace, he was an admirer of Emily; and the opportunity of tryingto shake his allegiance by means of a flirtation, in Emily'sabsence, was too good an opportunity to be lost.

"Do you remember how rude you were to me, on the day when youwere sketching in the summer-house?" Francine asked with snappishplayfulness. "I expect you to make yourself agreeable thistime--I am going to pay you a compliment."

He waited, with exasperating composure, to hear what the proposedcompliment might be. The furrow between his eyebrows lookeddeeper than ever. There were signs of secret trouble in that darkface, so grimly and so resolutely composed. The school, withoutEmily, presented the severest trial of endurance that he hadencountered, since the day when he had been deserted anddisgraced by his affianced wife.

"You are an artist," Francine proceeded, "and therefore a personof taste. I want to have your opinion of my sitting-room.Criticism is invited; pray come in."

He seemed to be unwilling to accept the invitation--then alteredhis mind, and followed Francine. She had visited Emily; she wasperhaps in a fair way to become Emily's friend. He rememberedthat he had already lost an opportunity of studying hercharacter, and--if he saw the necessity--of warning Emily not toencourage the advances of Miss de Sor.

"Very pretty," he remarked, looking round the room--withoutappearing to care for anything in it, except the prints.

Francine was bent on fascinating him. She raised her eyebrows andlifted her hands, in playful remonstrance. "Do remember it's _my_room," she said, "and take some little interest in it, for _my_sake!"

"What do you want me to say?" he asked.

"Come and sit down by me." She made room for him on the sofa. Herone favorite aspiration--the longing to excite envy inothers--expressed itself in her next words. "Say somethingpretty," she answered; "say you would like to have such a room asthis."

"I should like to have your prints," he remarked. "Will that do?"

"It wouldn't do--from anybody else. Ah, Mr. Morris, I know whyyou are not as nice as you might be! You are not happy. Theschool has lost its one attraction, in losing our dear Emily. Youfeel it--I know you feel it." She assisted this expression ofsympathy to produce the right effect by a sigh. "What would I notgive to inspire such devotion as yours! I don't envy Emily; Ionly wish--" She pau sed in confusion, and opened her fan. "Isn'tit pretty?" she said, with an ostentatious appearance of changingthe subject. Alban behaved like a monster; he began to talk ofthe weather.

"I think this is the hottest day we have had," he said; "nowonder you want your fan. Netherwoods is an airless place at thisseason of the year."

She controlled her temper. "I do indeed feel the heat," sheadmitted, with a resignation which gently reproved him; "it is soheavy and oppressive here after Brighton. Perhaps my sad life,far away from home and friends, makes me sensitive to trifles. Doyou think so, Mr. Morris?"

The merciless man said he thought it was the situation of thehouse.

"Miss Ladd took the place in the spring," he continued; "and onlydiscovered the one objection to it some months afterward. We arein the highest part of the valley here--but, you see, it's avalley surrounded by hills; and on three sides the hills are nearus. All very well in winter; but in summer I have heard of girlsin this school so out of health in the relaxing atmosphere thatthey have been sent home again."

Francine suddenly showed an interest in what he was saying. If hehad cared to observe her closely, he might have noticed it.

"Do you mean that the girls were really ill?" she asked.

"No. They slept badly--lost appetite--started at trifling noises.In short, their nerves were out of order."

"Did they get well again at home, in another air?"

"Not a doubt of it," he answered, beginning to get weary of thesubject. "May I look at your books?"

Francine's interest in the influence of different atmospheres onhealth was not exhausted yet. "Do you know where the girls livedwhen they were at home?" she inquired.

"I know where one of them lived. She was the best pupil I everhad--and I remember she lived in Yorkshire." He was so weary ofthe idle curiosity--as it appeared to him--which persisted inasking trifling questions, that he left his seat, and crossed theroom. "May I look at your books?" he repeated.

"Oh, yes!"

The conversation was suspended for a while. The lady thought, "Ishould like to box his ears!" The gentleman thought, "She's onlyan inquisitive fool after all!" His examination of her booksconfirmed him in the delusion that there was really nothing inFrancine's character which rendered it necessary to caution Emilyagainst the advances of her new friend. Turning away from thebook-case, he made the first excuse that occurred to him forputting an end to the interview.

"I must beg you to let me return to my duties, Miss de Sor. Ihave to correct the young ladies' drawings, before they beginagain to-morrow."

Francine's wounded vanity made a last expiring attempt to stealthe heart of Emily's lover.

"You remind me that I have a favor to ask," she said. "I don'tattend the other classes--but I should so like to join _your_class! May I?" She looked up at him with a languishing appearanceof entreaty which sorely tried Alban's capacity to keep his facein serious order. He acknowledged the compliment paid to him instudiously commonplace terms, and got a little nearer to the openwindow. Francine's obstinacy was not conquered yet.

"My education has been sadly neglected," she continued; "but Ihave had some little instruction in drawing. You will not find meso ignorant as some of the other girls." She waited a little,anticipating a few complimentary words. Alban waited also--insilence. "I shall look forward with pleasure to my lessons undersuch an artist as yourself," she went on, and waited again, andwas disappointed again. "Perhaps," she resumed, "I may becomeyour favorite pupil--Who knows?"

"Who indeed!"

It was not much to say, when he spoke at last--but it was enoughto encourage Francine. She called him "dear Mr. Morris"; shepleaded for permission to take her first lesson immediately; sheclasped her hands--"Please say Yes!"

"I can't say Yes, till you have complied with the rules."

"Are they _your_ rules?"

Her eyes expressed the readiest submission--in that case. Heentirely failed to see it: he said they were Miss Ladd'srules--and wished her good-evening.

She watched him, walking away down the terrace. How was he paid?Did he receive a yearly salary, or did he get a little extramoney for each new pupil who took drawing lessons? In this lastcase, Francine saw her opportunity of being even with him "Youbrute! Catch me attending your class!"