"You must excuse me now, Margery.

I must go.

Have patience with me, dear," she added wistfully.

"I will come to your room to-night." And she went away sadly.
She came to me that night surely.

She asked me to put out the lights, and crouching on a low seat by the fire, she told me her story.
"Do not ask me to look in your face till I have done," she said, "but let me hold your hand, and whenever you are too much disgusted and sickened with me to hear me any longer draw away your hand, that I may know." Poor Rachel! that was what she said in beginning.