Oh! mamma, I could not bear to stay here now." It was a cry of impatience--of acute pain--the child had suddenly turned back from her mother's story to her own trial and loss.

Love, happiness, two hours ago clasped to her heart, and now torn from her pitilessly; for a moment she was all rebellion at the thought--she, at least, had not sinned, why should she suffer?
Yet in her heart she knew that she must; she saw the one path clear before her, and felt that the time for acting was now; the time for grieving must come after.

She rose, and walked up and down the room, gathering her strength and courage as she could.
At last she stopped in front of her mother's chair.

Her face was pale, but so steady and composed that its girlishness seemed gone--she looked, what she would be from that time, a woman able to endure, and resolute to act.
"Mother," she said quietly, "Mr.Percy is coming to-morrow morning.

He is coming to see you, but I would rather speak to him myself.