e sat up and began to
review things more calmly.

"What a wretched little dunce I am!" she soliloquized. "And what must
he think of me! Well!" with a little sigh, "the worse his opinion of
me, the better for Madeline. And here I am this minute, in spite of
myself, actually rejoicing in my heart because he has not done the
very thing I have resolved that he should do. But he never will know
it. Neither shall any one else. I won't give him another chance to
talk to me; no, not if I have to take to my heels ten times a day.
It's only right that I should give him up; I, indeed, who fancied
myself in love with a white-handed, yellow-haired villain."

At this point in her meditations, some one rapped softly at her door.

"Claire, dear," said a soft voice, "open your door; I want to come
in."

It was Mrs. Ralston, and Claire advanced slowly and turned the key in
the lock.

"I--I thought it was somebody else," she said, hypocritically. "Come
in, Mrs. Ralston."

Thus invited, the lady entered. Without making a comment on the
disturbed appearance of her young friend, she crossed to the window,
and sitting down in a cosy dressing-chair, said: "Come directly here,
young lady, and sit down on that ottoman."

Looking somewhat surprised, the girl obeyed.

"Claire, my child, I have a confession to make. I was in the library
while you sang: 'When sparrows build.'"

The girl's cheek flushed and then paled; but she made no answer.

"And," pursued Mrs. Ralston, "I heard more than your song."

No reply.

"And more than your words!"

"More than--my--my words?"

"Yes; I heard your heart's secret."

Claire's face drooped. "What do you mean?" she asked, deprecatingly.

"My darling, I mean that your heart spoke through your voice, and it
belied your words. Why did you deny your love for so noble a man?"

Claire raised her head. "I didn't!" she said, suddenly, as if driven
to bay.

"No," smiled Mrs. Ralston. "You were a wily little serpent. But you
deceived him."

"I don't care," doggedly.

"Now you are telling a fib!"

"Well, I am not sorry, then," getting hold of her monitor's hand. "Why
do you turn against poor me, when I am trying to do my duty?"

"Because you are not doing your duty."

"Yes, I am; indeed, I am. You don't know."

"Then tell me, and let me be your friend and adviser."

"But you can't advise," objected Claire, "because you don't know
the--the other one."

"Well, I do know you."

"There it i