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"If she'll let me be I'll not say anything," said Fan.

"Very well, miss, she won't trouble you no more. But, lors, she don't
mean no harm; it's only her little funny ways." And having thus explained
and smoothed matters over, she went off to the kitchen.

About five o'clock Miss Starbrow came in and found Fan still sitting by
the open window in the darkening room.

"Why, my poor girl, you must be half frozen," she said, coming to the
sofa.

But how little Fan felt the chill evening air, when she started up at the
kind greeting, her eyes brightening and her face flushing with that
strange new happiness now warming her blood and making her heart beat
quick!

"Oh no, ma'am, I'm not a bit cold," she said.

The other pulled off her glove and touched the girl's cheek with her
fingers.

"Your skin feels cold enough, anyhow," she returned. "Come into my room;
it is warmer there."

Fan followed into the adjoining large bedroom, where a bright fire was
burning in the grate; and Miss Starbrow, taking off her hat and cloak,
sat down. After regarding the girl for some time in silence, she said
with a little laugh, "What can I do with you, Fan?"

Fan was troubled at this, and glanced anxiously at the other's face, only
to drop her eyes abashed again; but at last, plucking up a little
courage, she said:

"Will you please let me do something in the house, ma'am?" And after a
few moments she added, "I wish I could do something, and--and be your
servant."

Miss Starbrow laughed again, and then frowned a little and sat silent for
some time.

"The fact is," she said at length, "now that you are here I don't quite
know what to do with you. However, that doesn't signify. I took you for
my own pleasure, and it doesn't make much difference to have you in the
house, and if it did I shouldn't care. But you must look after yourself
for the present, as I have just got rid of one servant and there are only
two to do everything. They are anxious for me not to engage a third just
now, and prefer to do all the work themselves, which means, I suppose,
that there will be more plunder to divide between them."

"And can't I help, ma'am?" said Fan, whose last words had not yet been
answered.

"I fancy you would look out of place doing housework," said Miss
Starbrow. "It strikes me that you are not suited for that sort of thing.
If it hadn't been so, I shouldn't have noticed you. The only way in which
I should care to employ you would be as lady's-maid, and for that you are
unfit. Perhaps I shall have you taught needlework and that kind of thing
by-and-by, but I am not going to bother about it just now. For the
present we must jog along just how we can, and you must try to make
yourself as happy as you can by yourself."

Just then the housemaid came up with tea for her mistress.

"Get me another cup--a large one, and some more bread-and-butter," said
Miss Starbrow.

"The young person's tea is in the back room, ma'am," returned Rosie, with
a tremor in her voice.

Miss Starbrow looked at her, but without speaking; the maid instantly
retired to obey the order, and when she set the cup and plate of bread-
and-butter on the tray her hand trembled, while her mistress, with a
slight smile on her lips, watched her face, white with suppressed rage.

After tea, during which Miss Starbrow had been strangely kind and gentle
to the girl, she said:

"Perhaps you can help me take off my dress, Fan, and comb out my hair."

This was strange work for Fan, but her intense desire to do something for
her mistress partly compensated for her ignorance and awkwardness, and
after a little while she found that combing those long rich black tresses
was an easy and very delightful task. Miss Starbrow sat with eyes half-
closed before the glass, only speaking once or twice to tell Fan not to
hurry.

"The longer you are with my hair the better I like it," she said.

Fan was only too glad to prolong the task; it was such a pleasure to feel
the hair of this woman who was now so much to her; if the glass had not
been before them--the glass in which from time to time she saw the half-
closed eyes studying her face--she would more than once have touched the
dark tresses she held in her hand to her lips.

Miss Starbrow, however, spoke no more to her, but finishing her dressing
went down to her seven o'clock dinner, leaving Fan alone by the fire.
After dinner she came up again and sat by the bedroom fire in the dark
room. Then Rosie came up to her.

"Captain Horton is in the drawing-room, ma'am," she said.

Miss Starbrow rose to go to her visitor.

"You can stay where you are, Fan, until bed-time," she said. "And by-and-
by the maid will give you some supper in the back room. Is Rosie impudent
to you--how has she been treating you to-day?"

Fan was filled with distress, remembering her promise, and cast down her
eyes.

"Very well, say nothing; that's the best way, Fan. Take no notice of what
anyone says to you. Servants are always vile, spiteful creatures, and
will act after their kind. Good-night, my girl," and with that she went
downstairs.

Fan sat there for half an hour longer in the grateful twilight and warmth
of that luxurious room, and then Rosie's voice startled her crying at the
door:

"Doggie! doggie! come and have its supper."

Fan got up and went to the next room, where her supper and a lighted lamp
were on the centre table. Rosie followed her.

"Can you tell the truth?" she said.

"Yes," returned Fan.

"Well, then, have you told Miss Starbrow?"

"No."

"Did she ask you anything?"

"Yes, and I didn't tell her."

"Oh, how very kind!" said Rosie; and giving her a box on the ear, ran out
of the room.

Not much hurt, and not caring much, Fan sat down to her supper. Returning
to the bedroom she heard the sound of the piano, and paused on the
landing to listen. Then a fine baritone voice began singing, and was
succeeded by a woman's voice, a rich contralto, for they were singing a
duet; and voice following voice, and anon mingling in passionate harmony,
the song floated out loud from the open door, and rose and seemed to fill
the whole house, while Fan stood there listening, trembling with joy at
the sound.

The singing and playing continued for upwards of an hour, and Fan still
kept her place, until the maid came up with a candle to show her to her
bedroom. They went up together to the next floor into a small neatly-
furnished room which had been prepared for her.

"Here's your room," said Rosie, setting down the candle on the table,
"and now I'm going to give you a good spanking before you go to bed."

"If you touch me again I'll scream and tell Miss Starbrow everything,"
said Fan, plucking up a spirit.

Rosie shut and locked the door. "Now you can scream your loudest, cat,
and she'll not hear a sound."

For a few moments Fan did not know what to do to save herself; then all
at once the memory of some old violent wrangle came to her aid, and
springing forward she blew out the candle and softly retreated to a
corner of the room, where she remained silent and expectant.

"You little wretch!" exclaimed the other. "Speak, or I'll kill you!" But
there was no answer. For some time Rosie stumbled about until she found
the door, and after some jeering words retreated downstairs, leaving Fan
in the dark.

She had defeated her enemy this time, and quickly locking the door, went
to bed without a light.

CHAPTER VI

The next few days, although very sweet and full to Fan, were uneventful;
then, early on a Wednesday evening, once more Miss Starbrow made her sit
with her at her bedroom fire and talked to her for a long time.

"What did you tell me your name is?" she asked.

"Frances Harrod."

"I don't like it. I call it _horrid_. It was only your stepfather's
name according to your account, and I must find you a different one. Do
you know what your mother's name was--before she married, I mean?"

"Oh yes, ma'am; it was Margaret Affleck."

"Affleck. It is not common and not ugly. Frances Affleck--that sounds
better. Yes, that will do; your name, as long as you live with me, shall
be Affleck; you must not forget that."

"No, ma'am," Fan replied humbly. But she had some doubts, and after a
while said, "But can you change my name, ma'am?"

"Change your name! Why, of course I can. It is just as easy to do that as
to give you a new dress; easier in fact. And what do you know, Fan? What
did they teach you at the Board School? Reading, I suppose; very well,
take this book and read to me."

She took the book, but felt strangely nervous at this unexpected call to
display her accomplishments, and began hurriedly reading in a low voice.

Miss Starbrow laughed.

"I can't stand that, Fan," she said. "You might be gabbling Dutch or
Hindustani. And you are running on without a single pause. Even a bee
hovering about the flowers has an occasional comma, or colon, or full
stop in its humming. Try once more, but not so fast and a little louder."

The good-humoured tone in which she spoke served to reassure Fan; and
knowing that she could do better, and getting over her nervousness, she
began again, and this time Miss Starbrow let her finish the page.

"You _can_ read, I find. Better, I think, than any of the maids I
have had. You have a very nice expressive voice, and you will do better
when you read a book through from the beginning, and feel interested in
it. I shall let you read every day to me. What else did you learn--
writing?"

"Yes, ma'am, I always got a high mark for that. And we had Scripture
lessons, and grammar, and composition, and arithmetic, and geography; and
when I was in the fifth form I had history and drawing."

"History and drawing--well, what next, I wonder! That's what we are taxed
a shilling in the pound for, to give education to a--well, never mind.
But can you really draw, Fan? Here's pencil and paper, just draw
something for me."

"What shall I draw, ma'am?" she said, taking the pencil and feeling
nervous again.

"Oh, anything you like."

Now it happened that her drawing lessons had always given her more
pleasure than anything else at school, but owing to Joe Harrod's having
taken her away as soon as he was allowed to do so, they had not continued
long. Still, even in a short time she had made some progress; and even
after leaving school she had continued to find a mournful pleasure in
depicting leaf and flower forms. Left to choose her own subject, she
naturally began sketching a flower--a-rosebud, half-open, with leaves.

"Don't hurry, Fan, as you did with your reading. The slower you are the
better it will be," said Miss Starbrow, taking up a volume and beginning
to read, or pretending to read, for her eyes were on the face of the girl
most of the time.

Fan, happily unconscious of the other's regard, gave eight or ten minutes
to her drawing, and then Miss Starbrow took it in her hands to examine
it.

"This is really very well done," she said, "but what in goodness' name
did they teach you drawing for!' What would be the use of it after
leaving school? Well, yes, it might be useful in one way. It astonishes
me to think how you were trying to live, Fan. You were certainly not fit
for that hard rough work, and would have starved at it. You were made,
body and mind, in a more delicate mould, and for something better. I
think that with all you have learnt at school, and with your appearance,
especially with those truthful eyes of yours and that sweet voice, you
might have got a place as nursery governess, to teach small children, or
something of that sort. Why did you go starving about the streets, Fan?"

"But no one would take me with such clothes, ma'am. They wouldn't look at
me or speak to me even in the little shops where I went to ask for work."

Miss Starbrow uttered a curious little laugh.

"What a strange thing it seems," she said, "that a few shillings to buy
decent clothes may alter a person's destiny. With the shillings--about as
many as the man of God pays for his sirloin--shelter from the weather and
temptations to evil, three meals a day, a long pleasant life, husband and
children, perhaps, and at last--Heaven. And without them, rags and
starvation and the streets, and--well, this is a question for the mighty
intellect of a man and a theologian, not for mine. I dare say you don't
know what I'm talking about, Fan?"

"Not all, ma'am, but I think I understand a little."

"Very little, I should think. Don't try to understand too much, my poor
girl. Perhaps before you are eighty, if you live so long, you will
discover that you didn't even understand a little. Ah, Fan, you have been
sadly cheated by destiny! Childhood without joy, and girlhood without
hope. I wish I could give you happiness to make up for it all, but I
can't be Providence to anyone."

"Oh, ma'am, you have made me so happy!" exclaimed Fan, the tears
springing to her eyes.

Miss Starbrow frowned a little and turned her face aside. Then she said:

"Just because I fed and dressed and sheltered you, Fan--does happiness
come so easily to you?"

"Oh no, ma'am, not that--it isn't that," with such keen distress that she
could scarcely speak without a sob.

"How then have I made you happy? Will you not answer me? I took you
because I believed that you would trust me, and always speak openly from
your heart, and hide nothing."

"Oh, ma'am, I'm afraid to say it. I was so happy because I thought--
because--" and here she sunk her voice to a trembling whisper--"I thought
that you loved me."

Miss Starbrow put her arm round the girl's waist and drew her against her
knees.

"Your instinct was not at fault, Fan," she said in a caressing tone. "I
_do_ love you, and loved you when I saw you in your rags, and it
pained my heart when I told you to clean my doorsteps as if you had been
my sister. No, not a sister, but something better and sweeter; my sisters
I do not love at all. And do you know now what I meant, Fan, when I said
that there was something you could do for me?"

"I think I know," returned Fan, still troubled in her mind and anxious.
"It was that made me feel so happy. I thought--that you wanted me to love
you."

"You are right, my dear girl; I think that I made no mistake when I took
you in."

On that evening Fan had tea with her mistress, and afterwards, earlier
than usual, was allowed to comb her hair out--a task which gave her the
greatest delight. Miss Starbrow then put on an evening dress, which Fan
now saw for the first time, and was filled with wonder at its richness
and beauty. It was of saffron-coloured silk, trimmed with black lace; but
she wore no ornaments with it, except gold bracelets on her round shapely
arms.

"What makes you stare so, Fan?" she said with a laugh, as she stood
surveying herself in the tall glass, and fastening the bracelets on.

"Oh, ma'am, you do look so beautiful in that dress! Are you going to the
theatre to-night?"

"No, Fan. On Wednesday evenings I always have a number of friends come in
to see me--all gentlemen. I have very few lady friends, and care very
little for them. And, now I think of it, you can sit up to-night until I
tell you to go to bed."

"Yes, ma'am."

Miss Starbrow was moving towards the door. Then she paused, and finally
came back and sat down again, and drew Fan against her knee as before.

"Fan," she said, "when you speak about me to others, and to me in the
presence of others, or of the servants, call me Miss Starbrow. I don't
like to hear you call me ma'am, it wounds my ear. Do you understand?"

"Yes--Miss Starbrow."

"But when we are alone together, as we are now, let me hear you call me
Mary. That's my Christian name, and I should like to hear you speak it.
Will you remember?"

"Yes"; and then from her lips trembled the name "Mary."

"It sounds very loving and sweet," said the other, and, drawing the girl
closer, for the first time she kissed her.

With the memory of those tender words and the blissful sensation left by
that unexpected kiss, Fan spent the evening alone, hearing, after her
supper, the arrival of visitors, and the sound of conversation and
laughter from the drawing-room, and then music and singing. Later in the
evening the guests went to sup into the dining-room, and there they
stayed playing cards until eleven o'clock or later, when she heard them
leaving the house.

They were not all gone, however; three of Miss Starbrow's intimate
friends still lingered, drinking whisky-and-water and talking. There was
Captain Horton--captain by courtesy, since he was no longer in the army
--a tall, fine-looking man, slightly horsy in his get-up, with a very
large red moustache, reddish-brown hair, and keen blue eyes. He wore a
cut-away coat, and was standing on the hearthrug, his hands thrust into
his trousers pockets, and smiling as he talked to a young clerical
gentleman near him--the Rev. Octavius Brown. The Rev. Octavius was curate
of a neighbouring ritualistic church, but in his life he was not ascetic;
he loved whisky-and-water not wisely but too well, and he was
passionately devoted to the noble game of Napoleon. Mr. Brown had just
won seven shillings, and was in very high spirits; for being poor he had
a great dread of losing, and played carefully for very small stakes, and
seldom won more than half-a-crown or three shillings. At some distance
from them a young gentleman reclined in an easy-chair, smoking a
cigarette, and apparently not listening to their conversation. This was
Mr. Merton Chance, clerk in the Foreign Office, and supposed by his
friends to be extremely talented. He was rather slight but well-formed, a
little under the medium height, clean shaved, handsome, colourless as
marble, with black hair and dark blue eyes that looked black.

Miss Starbrow, who had left the room a few minutes before, came in, and
standing by the table listened to the curate.

"Miss Starbrow," said he, appealing to her, "is it not hard? Captain
Horton either doubts my veracity or believes that I am only joking when I
assure him that what I have just told him is plain truth."

"Well, let me hear the whole story," she replied, "and I'll act as
umpire."

"I couldn't wish for a juster one--nor for a fairer," he replied with a
weak smile. "What I said was that I had once attended a dinner to the
clergy in Yorkshire, at which there were sixteen of us present, and the
surnames of all were names of things--objects or offices or something--
connected with a church."

"Well, what were the names?"

"You see he remembers only one--a Mr. Church," said Captain Horton.

"No, pardon me. A Mr. Church, and a Mr. Bishop, and a Mr. Priest, and a
Mr. Cross, and--and oh, yes, Mr. Bell."

"Five of your sixteen," said Captain Horton, checking them off on his
fingers.

"And a Mr. Graves, and a Mr. Sexton, and--and--of course, I can't
remember all the names now. Can you expect it, Miss Starbrow?"

"No, of course not; but you have only named seven. If you can remember
ten I shall decide in your favour."

"Thank you. There was a Mr. Church--"

"No, no, old man, we've had that already," cried the Captain.

"Mr. Tombs," he continued, and fell again to thinking.

"That makes eight," said Miss Starbrow. "Cheer up, Mr. Brown, you'll soon
remember two others."

"Your own name makes nine, Mr. Brown," broke in Mr. Chance, "only I can't
make out what connection it has with a church."

The other two laughed.

"I'm afraid it looks very bad for you," said Miss Starbrow.

"No, no, Miss Starbrow, please don't think that. Wait a minute and let me
see if I can remember how that was," said the poor curate. "I
_think_ I said that all present at the table except myself--"

"No, there was no exception," interrupted Captain Horton. "Now, if you
sixteen fellows had been Catholic priests instead of in the Established
Church, and you were Scarlett by name instead of Brown--"

"Don't say any more--please!" cried the curate, lifting his hand. "You
are going too far, Captain Horton. I like a little innocent fun well
enough, but I draw the line at sacred subjects. Let us drop the subject."

"Oh, yes, of course, that's a good way of getting out of it. And as for
jesting about sacred matters, I always understood that one couldn't prove
his zeal for Protestantism better than by having a shot at the Roman
business."

"I am happy to say that I do not class myself with Prots," said the
curate, getting up from his chair very carefully, and then consulting his
watch. "I must run away now--"

"You can't do it," interrupted the Captain.

Miss Starbrow laughed. "Don't go just yet, Mr. Brown," she said. "I wish
you all to help me with your advice, or with an opinion at least. You
know that I have taken in a young girl, and I have not yet decided what
to do with her. I shall call her down for you to see her, as you are all
three my very candid friends, and you shall tell me what you think of her
appearance."

She then opened the door and called Fan down, and the poor girl was
brought into the neighbourhood of the three gentlemen, and stood with
eyes cast down, her pale face reddening with shame to find herself the
centre of so much curiosity.

Miss Starbrow glanced at the Captain, who was keenly studying Fan's face,
as he stood before the fire, stroking his red moustache.

"Well, if I'm to give a candid opinion," he said, "all I can say is that
she looks an underfed little monkey."

"I think you are excessively rude!" returned Miss Starbrow, firing up.
"She is too young to feel your words, perhaps, but they are nothing less
than insulting to my judgment."

"Oh, confound it, Pollie, you are always flying out at me! I dare say
she's a good girl--she looks it, but if you want me to say that she's
good-looking, I can't be such a hypocrite even to please you."

Miss Starbrow flashed a keen glance at him, and then without replying
turned to Mr. Brown.

"Really--honestly, Miss Starbrow," he said, "you couldn't have selected a
more charming-looking girl. But your judgment is always--well, just what
it should be; that goes without saying."

She turned impatiently from him and looked at Mr. Chance, still
gracefully reclining in his chair.

"Is my poor opinion really worth anything to you?" he said, and rising he
walked over to the girl and touched her hand, which made her start a
little. "I wish to see your eyes--won't you look at me?" He spoke very
gently.

Fan glanced up into his face for a moment.

"Thank you--just what I thought," said he, returning to his seat.

"Well?" said Miss Starbrow.

"Must I put it in words--those poor symbols?" he returned. "I know so
well that you can understand without them."

"Perhaps I might if I tried very hard, but I choose not to try," she
replied, with a slight toss of her head.

"It is a pleasure to obey; but the poor girl looks nervous and
uncomfortable, and would be so glad _not_ to hear my personal
remarks."

"Oh yes, it was thoughtless of me to keep her here--thanks for reminding
me," said Miss Starbrow, with a strange softening of her voice her
friends were not accustomed to hear. "Run up to your room, Fan, and go to
bed. I'm sorry I've kept you up so late, poor child."

And Fan, with a grateful look towards Mr. Chance, left the room gladly
enough.

"When she first came into the room I wondered what had attracted you,"
said Mr. Chance. "I concluded that it must be something under those long
drooping eyelashes, and when I looked there I found out the secret."

"Intelligent eyes--very intelligent eyes--I noticed that also," said Mr.
Brown.

"Oh no, heaven forbid--I did not mean anything of the kind," said Mr.
Chance. "Intelligence is a masculine quality which I do not love to see
in a woman: it is suitable for us, like a rough skin and--moustachios,"
with a glance at Captain Horton, and touching his own clean-shaven upper
lip. "The more delicate female organism has something finer and higher
than intelligence, which however serves the same purpose--and other
purposes besides."

"I don't quite follow you," said the curate, again preparing to take his
leave. "I dare say it's all plain enough to some minds, but--well, Mr.
Chance, you'll forgive me for saying that when you talk that way I don't
know whether I'm standing on my head or my heels."

"Naturally, you wouldn't," said Captain Horton, with a mocking smile.
"But don't go yet, Brown; have some more whisky-and-water."

"No, thanks, no more. I never exceed two or three glasses, you know.
Thank you, my dear Miss Starbrow, for a most delightful evening." And
after shaking hands he made his way to the door, bestowing a kindly touch
on each chair in passing, and appearing greatly relieved when he reached
the hall.

Captain Horton lit a cigarette and threw himself into an easy-chair. Mr.
Chance lit another cigarette; if the other was an idle man, he (Chance)
was in the Foreign Office, and privileged to sit up as late as he liked.

"On the whole," he said in a meditative way, "I am inclined to think that
Brown is a rather clever fellow."

Miss Starbrow laughed: she was still standing. "You two appear to be
taking it very quietly," she said. "It is one o'clock--why will you
compel me to be rude?"

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