an abrupt bow to
the discomfited Mrs Pearson, she was out and away in the open air,
threading her way with instinctive energy along the crowded street.
Suddenly she turned round, and went back to Mrs Pearson's with even
more rapidity than she had been walking away from the house.

"I have changed my mind," said she, as she came, breathless, up into
the show-room. "I will take the bonnet. How much is it?"

"Allow me to change the flowers; it can be done in an instant, and
then you can see if you would not prefer the roses; but with either
foliage it is a lovely little bonnet," said Mrs Pearson, holding it
up admiringly on her hand.

"Oh! never mind the flowers--yes! change them to roses." And she
stood by, agitated (Mrs Pearson thought with impatience), all the
time the milliner was making the alteration with skilful, busy haste.

"By the way," said Jemima, when she saw the last touches were being
given, and that she must not delay executing the purpose which was
the real cause of her return--"Papa, I am sure, would not like your
connecting Mrs Denbigh's name with such a--story as you have been
telling me."

"Oh dear! ma'am, I have too much respect for you all to think of
doing such a thing! Of course I know, ma'am, that it is not to be
cast up to any lady that she is like anybody disreputable."

"But I would rather you did not name the likeness to any one," said
Jemima; "not to any one. Don't tell any one the story you have told
me this morning."

"Indeed, ma'am, I should never think of such a thing! My poor husband
could have borne witness that I am as close as the grave where there
is anything to conceal."

"Oh dear!" said Jemima, "Mrs Pearson, there is nothing to conceal;
only you must not speak about it."

"I certainly shall not do it, ma'am; you may rest assured of me."

This time Jemima did not go towards home, but in the direction of
the outskirts of the town, on the hilly side. She had some dim
recollection of hearing her sisters ask if they might not go and
invite Leonard and his mother to tea; and how could she face Ruth,
after the conviction had taken possession of her heart that she, and
the sinful creature she had just heard of, were one and the same?

It was yet only the middle of the afternoon; the hours were early
in the old-fashioned town of Eccleston. Soft white clouds had come
slowly sailing up out of the west; the plain was flecked with thin
floating shadows, gently borne along by the w