Mr. Enderby, who had of late taken a personal interest in her studies, examining her from time to time on various subjects, said to her: 

“My little girl, if you do not wake up and work harder I fear you will have to take an inferior position in life to that which I desired for you.”

Poor Hetty!  Was she not wide awake?  So wide awake that when he and all the household were asleep she lay staring her misfortune in the face.  And how could she work harder than she did, weeping in secret over the dry facts that would not leave their mark upon her brain?  Thus it was that life looked dreary to her, and her face was grave and pale.  Phyllis and Nell, who were three and two years older than herself, had begun to talk of the joys which the magic age of eighteen had in store for them.  They would leave off study and go forth into the enjoyment of their youth in a flattering world.  Idleness, pleasure, happiness awaited them.  No one could say they were not sufficiently well educated to take that graceful place in life which Providence had assigned to them; Hetty was rebuked for being less learned than she ought to be, because for her there was no graceful place prepared; only a difficult and narrow path leading away she knew not where.

Of the difference between their position and hers she could not help thinking, but she had been so long accustomed to realize it that she did not dwell upon it much.  Miss Davis was the person on whom her eyes were fixed as an image of what she ought to hope to become.

To be exactly like Miss Davis.  To look like her, think like her, be as well informed, as independent, as much respected; to teach as well, speak as wisely, be called an admirable woman who had fought her own way against poverty in the world, this was what Hetty had been assured by Mr. and Mrs. Enderby ought to be the object of her ambition and the end of all her hopes.  And Hetty tried honestly to will as they willed for her good.  But her face was not less sad on that account.

Things were in this state when one day, a day never to be forgotten by her, Hetty was feeling more than usually unhappy.  Only the evening before Mr. Enderby had examined her on several subjects, and had found her wanting.  He had spoken to her with a little severity, and at the same time looked at her pityingly, and the girl had felt more miserable than can be told at having disappointed him.  To-day she was left to spend a long afternoon by herself, as Miss Davis had taken Phyllis and Nell to visit some friends, and, though her morning’s work ought to have been over, she still sat at her lessons, labouring diligently.  At last becoming thoroughly tired she closed her book and raised her eyes wearily, when they fell on a jar of wild flowers which yesterday she had arranged and placed upon a bracket against the wall.  It was spring, and in the jar was a cluster of pale wood-anemones with some sprays of bramble newly leafed.  Hetty’s eyes brightened