rs outside! Hastily, and in a somewhat guilty
fashion, she replaces the ring upon the table, and drops the lace
handkerchief over it.

"Miss Ruth," says a tall, gawky country-girl, opening the door, "the
maister he be waitin' breakfast for you. Do ee come down now." Then,
catching sight of the handkerchief, "La! now," she says, "how fine
that be! a beauty, surely, and real lace, too! La! Miss Ruth, and who
sent you that, now? May I see it?"

She stretches out her hand, as though about to raise the dainty fabric
from its resting-place; but Ruth is before her.

"Do not touch it," she says, almost roughly for her. Then, seeing the
effect her words have caused, and how the girl shrinks back from her,
she goes on, hurriedly and kindly, "You have been in the dairy,
Margery, and perhaps your hands are not clean. Run away and wash them,
and come to attend table. Afterwards you shall come up here and see my
handkerchief and all my pretty cards."

She smiles, lays her hand on Margery's shoulder, and gently, but with
determination, draws her towards the door.

Once outside, she turns, and, locking the door, carefully puts the key
in her pocket.

Slowly, reluctantly, she descends the stairs,--slowly, and with a
visible effort, presses her lips in gentle greeting to her father's
care-worn cheek. The bells still ring on joyously, merrily; the sun
shines; the world is white with snow, more pure than even our purest
thoughts; but no sense of rest or comfort comes to Ruth. Oh, dull and
heavy heart that holds a guilty secret. Oh, sad (even though yet
innocent) is the mind that hides a hurtful thought! Not for you do
Christmas bells ring out their happy greeting! Not for such as you
does sweet peace reign triumphant.

CHAPTER XIII.

"Is she not passing fair?"--_Two Gentlemen of Verona._

The day at length dawns when Miss Broughton chooses to put in an
appearance at Pullingham. It is Thursday evening on which she arrives,
and as she has elected to go to the vicarage direct, instead of to
Gowran, as Clarissa desired, nothing is left to the latter but to go
down on Friday to the Redmonds' to welcome her.

She (Clarissa) had taken it rather badly that pretty Georgie will not
come to her for a week or so before entering on her duties; yet in her
secret soul she cannot help admiring the girl's pluck, and her
determination to let nothing interfere with the business that must for
the future represent her life. To stay at Go