lergyman: "Oh! how _could_ you
send her away? You know she has no home, she has nowhere to go. How
_could_ you do it?" All Lydia caught of his reply was: "Not another
night, not another meal, in this house while _I_ am its master."

Presently her sister came upstairs carrying a plate of pudding.
Her eyes were red with tears, and her hands trembled. "Do eat
this, my dear; some tea is coming presently," she said.

But Lydia only shook her head, strapped her little box, and,
putting on her bonnet, she commanded her voice sufficiently to say:
"I am going now. I'll send for this box later."

"Where are you going to?" her sister's voice trembled.

"I--don't know," said the girl. "But wherever I do go, it will be
a kindlier place than this. Good-bye, sister." She kissed the
distressed wife softly on each cheek, then paused at the bedroom
door to say, "The man I am to marry loves me, honors me too much to
treat me as a mere possession. I know that _he_ will never tell me
he is 'master.' George Mansion may have savage blood in his veins,
but he has grasped the meaning of the word 'Christianity' far more
fully than your husband has."

Her sister could not reply, but stood with streaming eyes and
watched the girl slip down the back stairs and out of a side door.

For a moment Lydia Bestman stood on the pavement and glanced up and
down the street. The city was what was known as a garrison town in
the days when the British regular troops were quartered in Canada.
Far down the street two gay young officers were walking, their
brilliant uniforms making a pleasant splash of color in the
sunlight. They seemed to suggest to the girl's mind a more than
welcome thought. She knew the major's wife well, a gracious,
whole-souled English lady whose kindness had oftentimes brightened
her otherwise colorless life. Instinctively the girl turned to the
quarters of the married officers. She found the major's wife at
home, and, burying her drawn little face in the good lady's lap,
she poured forth her entire story.

"My dear," blazed out the usually placid lady, "if I were only the
major for a few moments, instead of his wife, I should--I
should--well, I should just _swear_! There, now I've said it, and
I'd _do_ it, too. Why, I never heard of such an outrage! My dear,
kiss me, and tell me--when, how, do you expect your young chief to
come for you?"

"Next week," said the girl, from the depths of those sheltering
arms.

"Then here you st