CHAPTER XI.

""Tis thus the spirit of a single mind

Makes that of multitudes take one direction,
As roll the waters to the breathing wind,

Or roams the herd beneath the bull's protection;
Or as a little dog will lead the blind,

Or a bell-wether form the flock's connection
By tinkling sounds, when they go forth to victual;
Such is the sway of your great men o'er little."

FLORENCE FOXLAND had now been eight years under Mrs. Lohmann's tuition, and those years of teaching had not been the least of Mina's trials. Florence's mother was a widow. Shortly after her husband's death she had been invited to spend a short time at Fyldow Hall, and during her stay there, it was arranged, that she and her little daughter should, for some years at least, make it their home. She was a weak-minded, silly woman who in her early girlhood had been pretty, but though only eight-and-twenty at the time of Mr. Foxland's death, she had fretted herself into

premature old age, from a constant habit of giving herself up to ennui and despondency. She always fancied herself ill; the least sound was too much for her nerves, and she spent whole days reclining on the sofa, in a darkened room; as the full light of day affected her eyes. There she sat, surrounded by a goodly array of scent bottles and all the paraphernalia of a fastidious, whimsical malade imaginaire. Bright visions of future greatness for Florence, constituted her waking dreams. She would send for Mrs. Lohmann and tell her that her pupil's pecuniary prospects were small, and that a brilliant marriage must be the great aim and object of her life. She therefore trusted Mrs. Lohmann would train her suitably for the race she had to run. She must of course be made a highly accomplished, dashing young lady, above all she was to be taught to shun every thing like diffidence and humility. Girls were naturally much too bashful and timid. She wished Florence to carry her head high, and have a due consciousness of her own importance. Thus would this foolish woman talk to the great discomfort of poor Mina who dreaded to anticipate even mentally the future

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career of Miss Foxland. Lady Willmott too, did not allow her to pursue her system of teaching in peace, but was continually intruding into the school room, chiefly for the purpose of exhibiting her erudition. Sometimes it was an abstruse book she wished Florence to read, and in vain did Mina tell her it was far beyond the child's young capacity, she merely drew forth a longer speech in its favour, liberally interspersed with learned terms somewhat involved and unintelligible. Then she would propound new-fangled educational plans, with high-sounding names which she recommended Mrs. Lohmann to adopt at once, because the pupils taught under those systems had invariably proved clever and deeply read. Occasionally she would break out in invectives against Mrs. Foxland, for forbidding her daughter to receive classical instruction. She felt so thankful because her own knowledge of Latin and Greek had cheered many of her weary hours and, although she said it, a Cambridge wrangler had told her, she was a better Greek scholar than many men who had been classed high in the tripos! Of the delights of science too, Florence was forbidden to taste, nor was she

allowed to enter the wide fields of polemical disquisition. Poor child pity was it that she should ever have been born, if ignorance were thus to be her doom. It was a miserable thing for her to be taught nothing save music, dancing, a little drawing and a smattering of French and German-with so slender a stock of knowledge, what an oppressive burden would not life prove to her. These were Lady Willmott's sentiments on the subject of her niece's education, and between the mother and the aunt, poor Mina Lohmann had indeed a difficult game to play.

Florence Foxland was an aristocratic looking child, she moved gracefully and had a lofty bearing, whilst her face evinced no traces of plebeian origin, though it scarcely deserved to be styled pretty. Her languishing grey eyes were rarely seen, for she usually kept them half closed, a half playful, half ironical sneer played around her mouth, and now at the age of thirteen she manifested a very decided will of her own, and was not over polite to those with whom she came in contact. Mrs. Lohmann was one morning, performing her accustomed duties at Fyldow. Hall, when the door suddenly opened and a lovely

child, burst like a sunbeam into the room. Florence looked up from her book.

"Ma belle Princesse " she cried, and ran towards her.

Mina was astonished. Miss Foxland had never before exhibited so much warmth towards any one. It was not that she was naturally frigid in manner, but she seemed to take a special delight at any opportunity of uttering a sneer; even her own mother did not always escape. But as Mrs. Lohmann gazed on the young being now locked in the arms of Florence, she could hardly feel surprise even at the admiration it had elicited. She seemed born to be loved; no statue of chiselled alabaster could have been more perfect than that face, whose faultless features were illumined by the light of poesy. Long black hair, floated in waves over her ivory shoulders; she tossed it back from her brow, and releasing herself from Miss Foxland with the calm dignity of an eastern queen, advanced towards Mina.

"I hope you are not angry" she said in a rich melodious voice rendered yet sweeter by the tones. of childhood. "Lady Willmott said, I might come in to see Florence,"