If Clemence’s face crimsoned at the words, the one beside her became absolutely livid with rage.  Mrs. Bailey had once been a beauty, and the black eyes that now glowed with baleful fire, had, in years gone by, glanced languishingly upon scores of admiring swains.  But there was now nothing left of fortune, fair looks, or friends, but a bitter memory that rankled in the woman’s heart.  Realizing that her own youth had flown, she hated all that was young, and lovely, and pure, as a reproach to her mis-spent life.  She was a keen observer of people, too, in her strange way, and had read upon the ingenuous face before her, the momentary temptation to shun her unwelcome society.

The delicacy of Clemence’s manner, instead of arousing her gratitude, had the effect which it sometimes has upon people who realize their own inferiority, and she resolved to wound her where she guessed a young girl’s feelings were peculiarly sensitive.

Ignoring the remarks which she had heard Mrs. Vaughn making upon her own appearance, she turned and gazed over her shoulder, as the pair ascended the steps and entered the door, through which Clemence had but just passed.

“Why, they’re goin’ into the same house you came out of, Miss Graystone!  Who be they, now?”

Clemence informed her that the lady was Mrs. Vaughn, to whose children she gave instruction, and the gentleman was Mr. Wilfred Vaughn, the step-brother of her late husband.

“No, is it?” said Mrs. Bailey; “ain’t he a handsome man?” studying the girl’s face closely.

Clemence agreed with her in thinking Mr. Vaughn a handsome and distinguished looking gentleman.

“Is he married?” was the next question.

Clemence replied in the negative.

“Be you much acquainted with him?” queried her tormentor.

“But very little,” was the laconic reply.

“Well, let me give you a little advice, young lady,” said Mrs. Bailey, after a disagreeable silence of some minutes.  “I have seen more of the world than you have, and think it is my duty to warn you of your danger.  Don’t have too much to say to this fine gentleman.  Nothing is so becoming to a young woman as modesty.” (It was truly wonderful how Mrs. Bailey had come to learn in her old age, that of which she had seemed deplorably ignorant in her youth, and valued modesty the more as she had less occasion to call it into requisition.) “Men of his wealth and social position never want any good of poor girls like you; that is why I wish to warn you, for I think you are a good, deserving sort of a person, that means well, and if you profit by my instructions, you will avoid a lifetime of misery.  Don’t let any foolish idea of securing a rich husband, enter your head.  Submit patiently to the poverty that must always be your portion.  Be industrious, sober and discreet, and I dare say, you may find some honest young man, bye-and-bye, who will want such a wife to help him