“That Lady Chillington is a very peculiar woman I am quite ready to admit.  That she will say things to you that may seem hard and cruel, and that may wound your feelings, I will also allow.  But granting all this, I can deduce from it no reason why the position should be refused by you.  Had you gone out as governess, you would probably have had fifty things to contend against quite as disagreeable as Lady Chillington’s temper and cynical remarks.  You are young, dear Janet, and life’s battle has yet to be fought by you.  You must not expect that everything in this world will arrange itself in accordance with your wishes.  You will have many difficulties to fight against and overcome, and the sooner you make up your mind to the acceptance of that fact, the better it will be for you in every way.  If I have found the position of companion to Lady Chillington not quite unendurable, why should it be found so by you?  Besides, her ladyship has many claims upon you—­upon your best services in every way.  Every farthing that has been spent upon you from the day you were born to the present time has come out of her purse.  Except mere life itself, you owe everything to her.  And even if this were not so, there are other and peculiar ties between you and her, of which you know nothing (although you may possibly be made acquainted with them by-and-by), which are in themselves sufficient to lead her to expect every reasonable obedience at your hands.  You must clothe yourself with good temper, dear Janet, as with armour of proof.  You must make up your mind beforehand that however harsh her ladyship’s remarks may sometimes seem, you will not answer her again.  Do this, and her words will soon be powerless to sting you.  Instead of feeling hurt or angry, you will be inclined to pity her—­to pray for her.  And she deserves pity, Janet, if any woman in this sinful world ever did.  To have severed of her own accord those natural ties which other people cherish so fondly; to see herself fading into a dreary old age, and yet of her own free will to shut out the love that should attend her by the way and strew flowers on her path; to have no longer a single earthly hope or pleasure beyond those connected with each day’s narrow needs or with the heaping together of more money where there was enough before—­in all this there is surely room enough for pity, but none for any harsher feeling.”

“Dear Sister Agnes, your words make me thoroughly ashamed of myself,” said Janet, with tearful earnestness.  “Arrogance ill becomes one like me who have been dependent on the charity of others from the day of my birth.  Whatever task may be set me either by Lady Chillington or by you, I will do it to the best of my ability.  Will you for this once pardon my petulance and ill-temper, and I will strive not to offend you again?”

“I am not offended, darling; far from it.  I felt sure that you had good-sense and good-feeling enough to see the matter in its right light when it was properly put before you.  But have you no curiosity as to the nature of your new duties?”