And the piece I'm at work on is valued at a thousand guineas." "Wouldn't you like to wear it yourself ?" he asked suddenly, with a laugh.
"I?
I wouldn't wear it for the world! Do you know, Mr.Reay, that I almost hate beautiful lace! I admire the work and design, of course--no one could help that--but every little flower and leaf in the fabric speaks to me of so many tired eyes growing blind over the intricate stitches--so many weary fingers, and so many aching hearts--all toiling for the merest pittance! For it is not the real makers of the lace who get good profit by their work, it is the merchants who sell it that have all the advantage.

If I were a great lady and a rich one, I would refuse to buy any lace from the middleman,--I would seek out the actual poor workers, and give them my orders, and see that they were comfortably fed and housed as long as they worked for me." "And it's just ten chances to one whether they would be grateful to you----" Angus began.

She silenced him by a slight gesture.
"But I shouldn't care whether they were grateful or not," she said.

"I should be content to know that I had done what was right and just to my fellow-creatures." They had no more talk that day, and Helmsley, eagerly expectant, and watching them perhaps more intently than a criminal watches the face of a judge, was as usual disappointed.

His inward excitement, always suppressed, made him somewhat feverish and irritable, and Mary, all unconscious of the cause, stayed in to "take care of him" as she said, and gave up her afternoon walks with Angus for a time altogether, which made the situation still more perplexing, and to Helmsley almost unbearable.