I had better leave the explanation to herself; she is truthful, and will tell you what has compelled me to take this step.

I grieve to lose her, but have really no choice .-- I am, yours truly, H.RUTHERFORD." No tears rose; her voice was as firm as though she had been reading in class; but she was pale and cold as death.
Lotty rose in bed and stared wildly.
"What have you done, child ?--what ever have you done?
Is--is it anything--about _me_." "I hit Harriet Smales with a slate, and covered her all over with blood, and I thought I'd killed her." She could not meet her mother's eyes; stood with head hung down, and her hands clasped behind her.
"What made you do it ?" asked Lotty in amazement.
"I couldn't help it, mother; she--she said you were a bad woman." Ida had raised her eyes with a look of love and proud confidence.

Lotty shrank before her, clutched convulsively at the bed-clothes, then half raised herself and dashed her head with fearful violence against the wall by which the bed stood.

She fell back, half stunned, and lay on the pillows, whilst the child, with outstretched hands, gazed horror-struck.

But in a moment Ida had her arms around the distraught woman, pressing the dazed head against her breast.