that Mrs. Rochester had said? Anyhow, she didn't. And anyhow, it did not matter, because Jane had heard every word through the library door. Why did not Jane tell Lucilla that she had listened to Mrs. Rochester's poisonous confidences? It was not that she was ashamed of listening. When she began to listen she pictured herself telling Lucilla afterwards and laughing over it with her. But she had not told her. And she did not tell her now. Instead she said: "What sort of things?"
"Oh, the usual stuff that sort of woman would hint: that we needn't hope that my Lord Rochester would throw the handkerchief to either of us, because his mamma had other views for him."
"What did she say exactly?"
"Oh, nothing exactly. But I gathered that Mamma would be quite pleased if Mr. Rochester didn't admire Jane or Lucy."
"So Miss Antrobus is sent here to spy? I thought there was something of that sort. That must be what makes one feel uncomfortable with her."
"Oh, but I don't think that," said Lucilla, forgetting that she had felt something very like it, and only remembering that Miss Antrobus had been nice to the unreal aunt. "I think she's a kind girl really, and straight."
"She's come to spy out the land," said Jane with conviction. "Well, she's welcome to all she can find out. Good-night, Luce."
But she re-opened the door expressly to put her head round it and whisper: "I say, Luce, eight people! Enough for the Lancers. And four of them Pigs—beautiful, fat, profitable Pigs! Seventeen-guineas-a-week Pigs, Luce, my dear! Good-night!"
•••••
There is no doubt that fortune smiles on the brave; at any rate, it smiled broadly from the first on Jane and Lucilla. Even their misfortunes were mitigated. Their trustee defaulted: but he left them a house and garden and a nest-
