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CHAPTER XX.

ISOLA BELLA.

ISS PONSONBY had the very best intentions with regard to Elfrida, but perhaps she could scarcely have fallen on any

plan more calculated to chafe the spirit of the girl than the one she pursued.

That Elfrida must be made to feel her fault had been a serious one, was right, but the means taken to effect this were injudicious. For a fortnight it was decreed that Elfrida should never leave the Cottage, except for a drive with Miss Ponsonby, or to walk up and down the road with Miss Adelaide. She was to have no communication with her friends at the Vicarage. The play at the Court was to be acted without her.

'There will be no locked doors, Elfrida, and no harshness; but I feel that I must show not only to you, but to your young companions, how highly I disapprove of your conduct. If you do as I desire, you shall resume your lessons at the Vicarage, after

the holidays; but if not, I shall at once take other measures.'

Can't I see Mrs. Meredith?' Elfrida asked.

'I think not. But if Mrs. Meredith comes here, I may allow you to see her.'

Lord Maintree was too young a man to consult,' Miss Ponsonby reflected. He treated the matter too lightly, and did more harm than good.'

Meanwhile a perpetual blister was kept up in poor Aunt Dorothy's mind by the comments of the neighbours on the concert. When calling, as in duty bound, at the Castle, in the course of the week, old Lady Portbury was discussing with another lady who the Honourable Miss Ponsonby, who sang so beautifully, could be; and poor Aunt Dorothy, too honest to waive the question, had to answer in a voice which betrayed great vexation, It was my niece, poor Ralph's daughter, Elfrida Ponsonby.'

Every one knows how a sore place smarts when touched by careless hands, and Miss Ponsonby really suffered much from the remarks of her friends and acquaintances.

The slow days passed, heavy days to Elfrida. She had a secret hope that Lord Maintree would come again, but she listened in vain for the sound of Daphne's feet, and the quick, light step of Daphne's master on the terrace. Lord Maintree had taken his mother to London the day after the party at the Court, from which poor Elfrida was excluded. She was sent for one day to see

Mrs. Meredith, but though her heart beat wildly at the thought, and she longed to throw herself upon her neck and sob out her trouble in the presence of her aunts, that was impossible, and she could only console herself by gazing at the sweet face which shone with loving pity upon her.

Mrs. Meredith felt the awkwardness of the position for herself and Elfrida, and was glad to talk as much as possible about poor Bobby, the miller's boy, who had died a day or two before. Miss Ponsonby was full of kind feeling for the mother, and said she would drive over to the Mill, and take what black things she could hunt up for the mother and little sisters. Then she told Elfrida to show Mrs. Meredith how much she had improved in knitting, and her manner to her was quite kind and pleasant. But she was carrying out what she honestly believed to be her duty, and Elfrida, ardent and impulsive when moved by any emotion, and cold. and apparently hard when untouched, did not respond to a word her aunt said.

Mrs. Meredith left the Cottage full of sympathy for both the child and Miss Ponsonby, and when she returned to the Vicarage, and saw the bright, happy faces there, the contrast between them and poor Elfrida was so painful that she could hardly answer all the questions which were poured forth.

'What good will it do to keep her shut up there? It will mope her to death,' exclaimed Lily. 'It is all that silly Leonora's fault; and she is strutting about, looking as vain as ever.'

Daisy crept close to Mrs. Meredith and said she did want Elfrida, and that she did not care for anything now Elfrida was not there.

Mr. Huntingdon was afraid to express his opinion too openly, but he told his wife privately that he thought it was a dangerous experiment of Miss Ponsonby's to keep Elfrida shut up. She may run away altogether, and then what will the family say?'

One afternoon Elfrida was sitting in her room brooding over her troubles, when her eye fell on a sheet of The Bellingham Gazette, which had been brought by Bella to light the fire, and, not being wanted, had been stuffed behind the coal-box. A newspaper was one of the forbidden things at the Cottage, and perhaps that was the reason why Elfrida pounced on this sheet so eagerly. 'Not that there will be anything about the concert there,' she thought. But as her eyes ran down the column where there were separate paragraphs, headed 'Maintree,' 'Beckford,' ‘Overton,' and other places in the county, she did actually see a notice of the concert. As she read the paragraph, her eyes glistened, and then another name attracted her.

'We hear that Signor Montalozzi is shortly removing to London, where he and Signora Montalozzi will take pupils to train as professional singers, either on the stage or the concert-room. Signor Montalozzi has been persuaded to take this step by his friends, who have watched the brilliant success attained by two of his pupils, who have lately appeared before a London audience, and who owe

their whole musical training to Signor Montalozzi. Deeply regretting his departure from Bellingham, which will not take place till the beginning of the London season, we can but congratulate this accomplished singing-master on the laurels he has already won, and prophesy for him a brilliant future. Signor and Signora Montalozzi will, it is said, reside in Russell Square.'

'I will go to him!' Elfrida exclaimed; 'he will take me, I daresay, and make something of me afterwards. Anyhow, I will write to him and ask him to have me. Then-then I shall be free. Oh! it is a

chance, and "the next thynge," perhaps. But would he say it was the next thing-the right thing? It must be right to use my voice. Oh! I could sing out now, and I dare not. I will go now-this very evening; but no, early in the morning is best. I will pack up all I want in that bag, and go. It will make every one happier, and so they will confess afterwards. And then when I am a great singer they will come and hear me; and then perhaps even Aunt Dorothy will not say I have disgraced the family name.'

Too young and impulsive, too wayward and wilful, to pause to consider, Elfrida rushed to gain her point. If I get down by six o'clock, it will hardly be light; I can open the little window in Broome's pantry and jump out,-I will find ways and means. It is something at last to do. It is like Christian setting off with his burden on his back, for I shall have to carry my bag. They mean