to leave the next day, and this seemed a good opportunity for
stating her reasons and intentions; she buckled on her moral armour as
she followed the trailing pink-and-white draperies down the long
passage, preparing for an encounter of steel on steel.

"Close the door," said Isabel van Cannan, and went straight to a table
drawer, taking out a small bag full of money.

"I shall give you a month's salary instead of notice," she announced,
counting out sovereigns, "though, as a matter of fact, I believe you
are not entitled to it, considering the scandalous way you have
behaved, plotting and spying and setting the children against me."

Christine disdained to answer this lying charge. She only said quietly:

"It is useless to offer me money, Mrs. van Cannan. I have no intention
of leaving the farm until Mr. van Cannan returns."

"What do you mean? How dare you?" began the other, with a return of
her loud and insolent manner.

"Don't shout," said Christine coldly. "You only degrade yourself and
do not alarm me. I mean what I have said. Mr. van Cannan engaged me,
and entrusted his children to my care, not only when I came but by
letter since his departure. I do not mean to desert that trust or
relegate it to any hands but his own."

"He never wrote to you. I don't believe a word of it."

"You are at liberty to believe what you choose. I have the proof, and
shall produce it if necessary. In the meantime, please understand
plainly that I do not intend to be parted from Roddy."

A baffled look passed over the other's features, but she laughed
contemptuously.

"We shall see," she sneered. "Wait till tomorrow, and we shall see how
much your proofs and protests avail you."

"As we both know each other's minds and intentions, there is no use in
prolonging this very disagreeable interview," answered Christine
calmly, and walked out.

The dining-room was silent and dim. The men had evidently braved the
rain for the sake of getting early to their own quarters, and no one
was about. In the nursery, the lamp by which she sometimes read or
wrote at her own table had not been lighted. Only a sheltered candle
on the wash-hand stand cast a dim shadow toward the three little white
beds under their mosquito-nets. Meekie had gone, but the quiet
breathing of the children came faintly to the girl as she sat down by
her table, thankful for a little space of silence and solitude in which
to collect her forces. She s