rresistible outburst of penitence,
"you little know what crooked things I can imagine."

"Can't I?" he said laughing at what he fancied was her little joke, and
glad to see her bearing her troubles so lightly. "You'll come all right
yet, my dear; you have the right spirit. Is your carriage waiting?"

"Not here; but in Holborn I have several at my command," she returned.
"Good-by; no, you must not come downstairs; it is damp and chilly."

On reaching her home, the home she must so soon resign, Katherine sent a
note to Rachel Trant asking if she had a spare hour that evening, as
she, Katherine, had something to tell her, and preferred going to her
house. Then she sat down to write a full and detailed account of what
had taken place to her sister-in-law. It was dusk before she had
finished and she herself felt considerably exhausted. Miss Payne had
gone out to dine with one of her former girls, now the wife of a rackety
horsy man, whose conduct made her often look back with a sigh of regret
to the tranquil days passed under the guardianship of the prudent
spinster; so having partaken of tea at their usual dinner-time she sat
and mused awhile on the one subject from which she could derive
comfort--Errington and his wonderful kindness to her. If he took the
matter in hand she thought herself safe. Her confidence in him was
unbounded. Ah! why had she placed such a gulf between them? How she had
destroyed her own life! There was but one tie between her and the world,
little Charlie and Cis, and perhaps she had been their greatest enemy.
She almost wished she could love De Burgh. He was undoubtedly in
earnest; he interested her; he--But no. Between her and any possible
husband she had reared the insurmountable barrier of a secret not to be
shared by any save one, from whom, somehow, instead of dividing her, had
bound her indissolubly; at least she felt it to be so.

It was near the hour she had fixed to call on Rachel, so she roused
herself, and asking the amiable Francois to accompany her, started for
Malden Street.

Rachel Trant had made a back parlor, designated the "trying-on" room,
bright and cosy, with a shaded lamp, a red fire, a couple of easy-chairs
at either side of it, and a gay cloth over the small round table erst
strewn with fashion books, measuring tapes, pins, patterns and
pin-cushions.

"How very good of you to come to me!" cried Miss Trant, hastening to
divest her friend of bonnet and cloak. "I am very c