Suddenly, in the midst of that foolish paroxysm, I felt a light hand upon my shoulder, and looking up, saw a face bending over me, a face full of sympathy and compassion.

O Milly Darrell, my darling, my love, how am I to describe you as you appeared before my eyes that night?  How poorly can any words of mine paint you in your girlish beauty, as you looked down upon me in that dimly-lighted schoolroom with divine compassion in your dark eloquent eyes!

Just at that moment I was so miserable and so inclined to be sulky in my wretchedness, that even the vision of that bright face gave me little pleasure.  I pushed away the gentle hand ungraciously, and rose hastily from my seat.

‘Pray don’t cry any more,’ said the young lady; ’I can’t bear to hear you cry like that.’

‘I’m not going to cry any more,’ I answered, drying my eyes in a hasty, angry way.  ’It was very foolish of me to cry at all; but this place did look so cheerless and dreary, and I began to think of my father and mother, and all I had left behind me at home.’

’Of course it was only natural you should think of them.  Everything does seem so bleak and dismal the first night; but you are very happy to have so many at home.  I have only papa.’

‘Indeed!’ I said, not feeling deeply interested in her affairs.

I looked at her as she stood leaning a little against the end of the table, and playing idly with a bunch of charms and lockets hanging to her gold chain.  She was very handsome, a brunette, with a small straight nose, hazel eyes, and dark-brown hair.  Her mouth was the prettiest and most expressive I ever saw in my life, and gave an indescribable charm to her face.  She was handsomely dressed in violet silk, with rich white lace about the throat and sleeves.

’You will find things much pleasanter when the girls come back.  Of course school is always a little dreary compared with home; one is prepared for that; but I have no doubt you will contrive to be happy, and I hope we shall be very good friends.  I think you must be the Miss Crofton I have heard spoken of lately?’

‘Yes, my name is Crofton—­Mary Crofton.’

’And mine is Emily Darrell.  Milly I am always called at home, and by any one who likes me.  I am a parlour-boarder, and have the run of the house, as it were.  I am rather old to be at school, you see; but I am going home at the end of this year.  I was brought up at home with a governess until about six months ago; but then papa took it into his head that I should be happier amongst girls of my own age, and sent me off to school.  He has been travelling since that time, and so I have not been home for the Christmas holidays.  I can’t tell you what a disappointment that was.’

I tried to look sympathetic, and, not knowing exactly what to say, I asked whether Miss Darrell’s father lived in that neighbourhood.

‘O dear, no,’ she answered; ’he lives nearly a hundred miles away, in a very wild part of Yorkshire, not far from the sea.  But Thornleigh—­that is the name for our house—­is a dear old place, and I like our bleak wild country better than the loveliest spot in the world.  I was born there, you see, and all my happy memories of my childhood and my mother are associated with that dear old home.’