“True; but is Jessie any the less worthy to sit in your parlour than she was then?”

“I think so, and that must decide the matter,” returned Mrs. Freeman, evincing some temper.

The old gentleman said no more; but Fanny remarked—­“I was not in favour of taking Jessie, for I knew how it would be; but Mrs. Carlton recommended her so highly, and said so much in her favour, that no room was left for a refusal.  As for Jessie herself, I have no particular objection to her; but the fact of her having once moved in the circle we are in is against her; for it leaves room for her to step beyond her place, as she has already done, and puts upon us the unpleasant necessity of reminding her of her error.”

“It don’t seem to me,” remarked Mr. Freeman, who had till now said nothing, “that Miss Hampton was doing any thing worthy of reproof.  She has been well raised, we know; is an educated, refined, and intelligent girl, and, therefore, has nothing about her to create repugnance or to make her presence disagreeable.  It would be better, perhaps, if we looked more to what persons are, than to things merely external.”

“It is all very well to talk in that way,” said Mrs. Freeman.  “But Miss Hampton is governess in our family, and it is only right that she should hold to us that relation and keep her place.  What she has been, or that she is, beyond the fact of her present position here, is nothing to us.”

Mr. Freeman knew from experience, that no particular good would grow out of a prolonged argument on this subject, and so said nothing further, although he could not force from his mind the image of the young girl as she rose up hastily and left the room, nor help thinking how sad a change it would be for one of his own children, if reduced suddenly to her condition.

A good deal more was said by Mrs. Freeman, who did not feel very comfortable, although she fully justified herself for what she had done.

The young girl, who had been reminded so harshly of the error into which she had fallen, went quickly up into her cold chamber, and there, with a burning cheek, sat down to think as calmly as her disturbed feelings would permit.  The weakness of tears she did not indulge; self-respect, rather than pride, sustained her.  Had she acted from the first impulse, she would have left the house immediately, never again to re-enter it; but reason soon told her that, however strong her impulses might be, duties and considerations far beyond mere feeling must come in to restrain them.

“Whatever I have been,” she said to herself, as she sat and reflected, “I am now simply a governess, and must steadily bear that in mind.  In this house I am to receive no more consideration than a mere stranger.  Have I a right to complain of this?  Have I cause to be offended at Mrs. Freeman for reminding me of the fact?  Her reproof was unkindly given; but false pride has in it no gentleness,