dear," said her stepmother, in a reassuring tone. "Do not alarm our good Mrs. Manning, who will be here in a moment, with so early a display of what I must call—temper. Please to remember, in your turn, that your father, dear soul! confided you to my sole care. You have—have we not all?—faults to correct, deficiencies to make good. Alone, I am unequal to such a task. I have thereforeHush, here she is."
The door had opened, and Mrs. Manning's stately figure moved darkly up the room. Geraldine felt that there was something imposing in the stern yet gracious manner of her greeting, and, overawed despite herself, went through the ceremony of introduction as though in a dream.
That evening was a strange one to Geraldine. The novelty of her position, the manner of her companions, her own doubt and sorrow, her wounded pride—these, altogether, cowed her spirit. Some irresistible power seemed to be compelling her, struggle as she would, to accept the circumstances in which fate had placed her. What if she did? Only for a short time longer; she was past sixteen. Could they pretend to treat her as a child? A prompt and cheerful acquiescence might be the wiser course. And with that resolution, made on her pillow, the poor child wept herself to sleep, and dreamed of her father.
The next day lessons began. Mrs. Manning examined her, calmly and rigidly, neither praising her acquirements nor noticing shortcomings; then, briefly laying out a general plan of study, supplied her with the needful books, and left her to tasks of no slight description. Her manner, without actual severity, was hard and distant. Nevertheless, Geraldine did not despair of conciliating her, and, in pursuance of her overnight determination, applied herself heartily to her work.
Her reward was a half smile, and a glance which at once expressed surprise and taught Geraldine that her governess's aim had been to test her abilities to the utmost.
Later the three walked in the sombre grounds, Melusina cold, but gentle; Mrs. Manning lofty and didactic; Geraldine sad and thoughtful, with a singular prescience of some impending evil whose nature she could not divine. One thing only was clear. It was intended to make her understand that she was a child again, without independence of movement or of mind. She could not repress a shudder as she glanced at the dismal mansion, with its huge strong portals and barred casements, and noticed that through the gloomy avenues that encircled it no human dwelling was visible.
The next day, and the next, and the next, Miss Fonnereau observed that her lessons were gradually augmented. Also, that her governess, far from commending her proficiency, seemed rather disappointed at finding no cause of rebuke; still she worked on. The company of her hardest books was preferable to that of Melusina, who affected to have no business, uninvited, in what was called the "schoolroom."
One morning Geraldine, in replying to her governess, made use (as she had often done before) of a French expression.
"Speak English, if you please, Miss Fonnereau," said Mrs. Manning, corrugating her stern white brows.
"It is so habitual with me," pleaded Geraldine.
"No reply. I have warned you," said Mrs. Manning.
Geraldine coloured, and glanced at her preceptress. Again, the sense of her helpless position seemed to chain her tongue. She bowed her head, and again promised herself to do what she might to obey.
Habits, however, are not to be overcome at a word. Next morning the dreadful offence was repeated.
"This is unfortunate," said the governess, coldly, and closing the book she had in her hand. "I must correct you."
"Correct me!" exclaimed Geraldine, flushing scarlet. "For what? And how?"
"For disobedience. With this," was the deliberate reply.
Mrs. Manning rose, and going to a cabinet, unlocked it, and produced a small and thin, but spiteful-looking, riding-rod.
The sight of the humiliating instrument was too much.
"Great heavens, madam!" cried Geraldine, starting up; "are you going to assault me?"
"Bare your neck and shoulders," answered Mrs. Manning, composedly as ever. "We call it chastisement."
"I will die first!" exclaimed Geraldine, bursting into a passion of tears. "I am going to acquaint Mrs. Fonnereau of this outrage."
"That may be best," replied Mrs. Manning. And she laid down the whip.
Melusina was tranquilly at work, when Geraldine, panting and weeping, burst into the room, and related the insult she had received.
Mrs. Fonnereau's slightly enamelled features betrayed no sympathy. She even
