“If this is Mr. Michael Vanstone’s house,” repeated Norah; “I am ready to leave it tomorrow.”

She impatiently quitted her chair and seated herself further away on the sofa.  As she laid her hand on the back of it, her face changed.  There, at the head of the sofa, were the cushions which had supported her mother when she lay down for the last time to repose.  There, at the foot of the sofa, was the clumsy, old-fashioned arm-chair, which had been her father’s favorite seat on rainy days, when she and her sister used to amuse him at the piano opposite, by playing his favorite tunes.  A heavy sigh, which she tried vainly to repress, burst from her lips.  “Oh,” she thought, “I had forgotten these old friends!  How shall we part from them when the time comes!”

“May I inquire, Miss Vanstone, whether you and your sister have formed any definite plans for the future?” asked Mr. Pendril.  “Have you thought of any place of residence?”

“I may take it on myself, sir,” said Miss Garth, “to answer your question for them.  When they leave this house, they leave it with me.  My home is their home, and my bread is their bread.  Their parents honored me, trusted me, and loved me.  For twelve happy years they never let me remember that I was their governess; they only let me know myself as their companion and their friend.  My memory of them is the memory of unvarying gentleness and generosity; and my life shall pay the debt of my gratitude to their orphan children.”

Norah rose hastily from the sofa; Magdalen impetuously left the window.  For once, there was no contrast in the conduct of the sisters.  For once, the same impulse moved their hearts, the same earnest feeling inspired their words.  Miss Garth waited until the first outburst of emotion had passed away; then rose, and, taking Norah and Magdalen each by the hand, addressed herself to Mr. Pendril and Mr. Clare.  She spoke with perfect self-possession; strong in her artless unconsciousness of her own good action.

“Even such a trifle as my own story,” she said, “is of some importance at such a moment as this.  I wish you both, gentlemen, to understand that I am not promising more to the daughters of your old friend than I can perform.  When I first came to this house, I entered it under such independent circumstances as are not common in the lives of governesses.  In my younger days, I was associated in teaching with my elder sister:  we established a school in London, which grew to be a large and prosperous one.  I only left it, and became a private governess, because the heavy responsibility of the school was more than my strength could bear.  I left my share in the profits untouched, and I possess a pecuniary interest in our establishment to this day.  That is my story, in few words.  When we leave this house, I propose that we shall go back to the school in London, which is still prosperously directed by my elder sister.  We can live there as quietly as we please, until time