Bert had plenty of capacity. She could get her lessons in an incredibly short time when there was any inducement. At other times she would sit for two or three hours with the book before her, but with her attention straying to other things, and, as a natural consequence, would know no more at the end of that time than at the beginning. Fortunately Mrs. Codman had the gift of patience, and though she was gentle, was, at the same time, firm.

Of one thing Bert became convinced,—that study was not so terrible as she had imagined. At the end of three months she had made so great an improvement, that her father was equally surprised and delighted, and was disposed to do full justice to Mrs. Codman's merits as a governess. "Who knows but you will become quite a learned lady in time, Bert?" he said, playfully.

"No doubt of it, papa," replied Bert. "By the time I am eighteen, I expect to wear green glasses and write books."

"That will, indeed, be a miraculous transformation. And what is to become of Topsy, then?"

"Oh, she'll be an old cat then, and won't feel any more like racing round than I do. She'll just curl up in a chair beside me, and I will use her fur to wipe my pens on. She is just the right color for that, you know."

"Quite a sensible plan. I confess. Indeed, it will be well for you to have something of that kind to be employed about, as you will probably have no beaux."

"No beaux, papa? And why am I to have no beaux, I should like to know?"

"Because it takes two to make a bargain."

"Well, perhaps I sha'n't," replied Bert, tossing her head. "Perhaps you don't know that I have picked out my future husband."

"Whew! That is getting along faster than I had anticipated. May I be permitted to know who is to be my son-in-law? I think I can guess, however."

"Who?"

"Mr. Bradley."

Mr. Bradley was an old bachelor, of about fifty, partially bald and more than partially homely, who had now and then dined with Mr. Bowman and had taken more notice of the young lady than she at all desired.

"Mr. Bradley!" repeated Bert, in a contemptuous manner. "I'd a good deal rather marry Topsy."

"Perhaps," suggested her father, "the superior length of the kitten's whiskers causes you to give her the preference. Am I to understand that she is your choice?"

"No, it is a very handsome boy, and his name is Charlie Codman."

A look of regret stole over Mrs. Codman's face—the expression of a sorrow caused by her uncertainty with regard to Charlie's fate.

"A son of yours?" asked Mr. Bowman, in some surprise.

Mrs. Codman replied in the affirmative.

"You ought to see his miniature, papa. He is very handsome."

"And you have lost your heart to him. Perhaps he may not return the compliment."

"I hope he will," said the young lady.

"Perhaps Mrs. Codman will allow me to look at the miniature of my future son-in-law," said Mr. Bowman, not guessing the mother's sorrow and its cause.

While Mrs. Codman was absent from the room, Bert gave her father a brief account of Charlie's disappearance.

"You must pardon me, Mrs. Codman," said Mr. Bowman, in a tone of feeling, when she had returned, "for speaking in the lively tone I did. I little guessed the anxiety you must feel about your son. Is this the miniature?"

"A very attractive face!" he said. "I don't wonder at Bert's taking a fancy to it."

"I cannot wonder at your sorrow in losing, even for a time, such a boy as this face seems to indicate," he added.

"You think there is a chance of his coming back to me?" asked Mrs. Codman, anxiously.

"I am hardly prepared to express an opinion on the scanty information which Bert has been able to give me. If you are willing to tell me the story in detail, I will tell you what I think of the chances."

Mrs. Codman told the story, mentioning, also, the name of Peter Manson, and the language which he had used.

"I sometimes see this man," said the merchant, "and know him by reputation. He is a miser."

"He pretends to be very poor."

"All pretence. I do not see what object he could have had in spiriting your son away."

Further conversation followed, but, as might be expected, no satisfactory result was reached. Mrs. Codman, however, felt relieved and more hopeful in the knowledge that her employer knew of her loss, and would do what he could to discover Charlie.

It was only a week later that he came into the school-room with a smile upon his face.

"Father, you bring good news; isn't it so?" said Bert.

"I hope so."

Mrs. Codman looked up with a glance of eager inquiry.

"As I took up the morning paper," said the merchant, "my eyes, by chance, ran down the list of advertised letters. Recognizing the name of Mrs. Codman among them, I took the liberty of sending to the office for it. It is post-marked at Rio Janeiro."

"Oh, give it to me quick!" exclaimed Mrs. Codman, in agitation.

"Is it from Charlie?" asked Bert.

"It is, it is!" exclaimed the happy mother, as she recognized the familiar handwriting; and too impatient to unseal the letter, she tore it open and devoured the contents.

It was the letter which Charlie had commenced on shipboard. We will give the greater part of it.

Knowing that Mr. Bowman felt a friendly interest in Charlie's welfare, Mrs. Codman, her eyes dim with happy tears, handed him the letter, which he read attentively.

"A very good letter," he said, "and very creditable to the writer. When he returns, if you and he are both willing, I will receive him at once into my counting-room. His letter is sufficient recommendation."

How differently the world looks according to the mood in which we view it. No one could have convinced Mrs. Codman, after the reception of this letter, that it was not a perfect paradise. The patient sorrow which her face had worn the day before, gave place to a sweet and happy expression, which made her look quite charming.

"Mrs. Codman is really a beautiful woman," thought Mr. Bowman, as unobserved, he watched her laughing with Bert, glancing over the newspaper which he was supposed to be reading.