verturn society altogether."

"Precisely so. I told Natalie this morning that if she were to be
allowed to join our association her English friends would imagine her to
be _petroleuse_."

"Miss Lind is not in the association?" Brand said, quickly.

"As yet no women have been admitted. It is a difficulty; for in some
societies with which we are partly in alliance women are members. Ah,
such noble creatures many of them are, too! However, the question may
come forward by-and-by. In the mean time, Natalie, without being made
aware of what we are actually doing--that, of course, is
forbidden--knows something of what our work must be, and is warm in her
sympathy. She is a good help, too: she is the quickest translator we
have got."

"Do you think," Brand said, somewhat timidly, but with a frown on his
face, "that it is fair to put such tedious labor on the shoulders of a
young girl? Surely there are enough of men to do the work?"

"You shall propose that to her yourself," Lind said laughing.

Well, they arrived at the house in Curzon Street, and, when they went
up-stairs to the drawing-room, they found Lord Evelyn there. Natalie
Lind came forward--with less than usual of her graciously self-possessed
manner--and shook hands with him briefly, and said, with averted look,

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Brand."

Now, as her eyes were cast down, it was impossible that she could have
noticed the quick expression of disappointment that crossed his face.
Was it that she herself was instantly conscious of the coldness of her
greeting, and anxious to atone for that? Was it that she plucked up
heart of grace? At all events, she suddenly offered him both her hands
with a frank courage; she looked him in the face with the soft, tender,
serious eyes; and then, before she turned away, the low voice said,

"Brother, I welcome you!"

CHAPTER XIII.

SOUTHWARD.

After a late, cold, and gloomy spring, a glimpse of early summer shone
over the land; and after a long period of anxious and oftentimes
irritating and disappointing travail--in wet and dismal towns, in
comfortless inns, with associates not always to his liking--George Brand
was hurrying to the South. Ah, the thought of it, as the train whirled
along on this sunlit morning! After the darkness, the light; after
fighting, peace; after the task-work, a smile of reward! No more than
that was his hope; but it was a hope that kept his heart afire and glad
on many a lonely