years;—in which case, he frankly confessed, he had enjoyed life too freely to be able to make much provision for his daughter. It would therefore, he conceived, be more judicious to prepare and strengthen my mind to encounter, with fortitude, some hardships and rude shocks, to which I might be exposed, than to foster a sensibility, which he already perceived, with regret, was but too acute. For which purpose, he desired I might spend one day in every week at his house in Berkley-square, when he should put such books into my hands [he had been informed I had a tolerable capacity] as he judged would be useful to me; and, in the intervals of his various occupations and amusements, assist me himself with occasional remarks and reflections. Any little accomplishments which Mrs Melmoth might judge necessary for, and suitable to, a young woman with a small fortune, and which required the assistance of a master, he would be obliged to her if she would procure for me, and call upon him to defray the additional expence.

He then, looking on his watch, and declaring he had already missed an appointment, took his leave, after naming Monday as the day on which he should constantly expect my attendance in Berkley-square.

Till he left the room I had not courage to raise my eyes from the ground—my feelings were harrowed up—the tone of his voice was discordant to my ears. The only idea that alleviated the horror of my weekly punishment (for so I considered the visits to Berkley-square) was the hope of reading new books, and of being suffered to range uncountroled through an extensive and valuable library, for such I had been assured was Mr Courtney's. I still retained my passion for adventurous tales, which, even while at school, I was enabled to gratify by means of one of the day-boarders, who procured for me romances from a neighbouring library, which at every interval of leisure I perused with inconceivable avidity.

CHAPTER VII

The following Monday I prepared to attend Mr Courtney. On arriving at his house, and announcing my name, a servant conducted me into his master's dressing-room. I appeared before him with trembling steps, downcast eyes, and an averted face.

'Look up, child!' said my father, in an imperious tone. 'If you are conscious of no crime, why all this ridiculous confusion?'

I struggled with my feelings: the tone and manner in which I was addressed gave me an indignant sensation:—a deeper suffusion than that of modesty, the glow of wounded pride, burnt in my cheeks:—I turned quick, gazed in the face of Mr 

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