nd rest a
little and then go to bed."

But Olive was afraid of night and its solitude. She knew there was no
slumber for her. When she was a little recovered, feeling unable to
talk, she asked Christal to read aloud.

The other looked annoyed. "Pleasant! to be a mere lady's companion and
reader! Miss Rothesay forgets who I am, I think," muttered she, though
apparently not meaning Olive to hear her.

But Olive did hear, and shuddered at the hearing.

Miss Manners carelessly took up the newspaper, and read the first
paragraph which caught her eye. It was one of those mournful episodes
which are sometimes revealed at the London police-courts. A young
girl--a lady swindler--had been brought up for trial there. In her
defence came out the story of a life, cradled in shame, nurtured in
vice, and only working out its helpless destiny--that of a rich man's
deserted illegitimate child. The report added, that "The convict was led
from the dock in a state of violent excitement, calling down curses on
her parents, but especially on her father, who, she said, had cruelly
forsaken her mother. She ended by exclaiming that it was to him she
herself owed all her life of misery, and that her blood was upon his
head."

"It _was_ upon his head," burst forth Christal, whose sympathies, as
by some fatal instinct, seemed attracted by a case like this. "If I had
been that girl, I would have hunted my vile father through the world.
While he lived, I would have heaped my miseries in his path, that
everywhere they might torture and shame him. When he died, I would have
trampled on his grave and cursed him!"

She stood up, her eyes flashing, her hands clenched in one of those
paroxysms which to her came so rarely, but, when roused, were terrible
to witness. Her mother's soul was in the girl. Olive saw it, and from
that hour knew that, whatever it cost her, the secret of Christal's
birth must be buried in her own breast for evermore.

Most faithfully Miss Rothesay kept her vow. But it entailed upon her
the necessity of changing her whole plans for the future. For some
inexplicable reason, Christal refused to go and live with her in
Edinburgh, or, in fact, to leave Farnwood at all. Therefore Olive's
despairing wish to escape from Harbury, and all its bitter associations,
was entirely frustrated. It would be hard to say whether she lamented or
rejoiced at this. The brave resolve had cost her much, yet she scarcely
regretted that it would not