as cold, I warn you."

It seemed to Matilda that she could not humble herself to do as she was
bidden; and the struggle was terrible for a minute or two. It shook the
child's whole nature. But the consciousness of the indignity awaiting
her in case of refusal fought with the keen sense of indignity now, and
conquered in time. Matilda picked up her work, came before Mrs. Candy,
and asked her pardon.

"Very well," said that lady, tapping her cheek carelessly; "now go and
sit down and behave yourself. The lace must be finished before you
leave my room."

It was a day of sharp trial to Matilda, all the more, perhaps, that it
came after a time of so much relief, and hope, and help. Matilda was
disappointed. She was not a passionate child; but for some hours a
storm of passion filled her heart which she could not control. Her lace
needle went in and out, keeping time to the furious swayings of
indignation and resentment and mortified pride and restless despair.
She was in her aunt's hands; completely in her power; helpless to
change anything; obliged even to swallow her feelings and hide her
displeasure. For a while that morning, Matilda felt as if she would
have given almost anything for the freedom to show her aunt what she
thought of her. She dared not do it, even so much as by a look. She was
forced to keep a quiet face and sit obediently mending her difficult
piece of lace; and the child's heart was in great turmoil. With that,
by and by, there began to mingle whispers of conscience; little
whispers that anger and hatred and ill-will were not right, nor
becoming her profession, nor agreeing at all with that "walking in
love" which Mr. Richmond had spoken of the night before. And sorrow
took its part too among the feelings that were sweeping over and
through her heart; but Matilda could not manage them, nor rule herself,
and she at last longed for the dinner-bell to ring, when her aunt and
cousin would leave her and she would be alone. Lace-mending got on very
slowly; her eyes were often dim, and it hindered her; though she would
not let the tears fall. When the bell rang, and the door was locked
upon her, Matilda's work dropped, and she too herself almost fell upon
her knees in her eagerness to seek and get help. That was what she
prayed for; not that her aunt might grow kind, nor that she might be
somehow separated from her and taken from her rule; but that she might
have help to be right; a heart to love, and bear,