finally
decided to send it by a messenger boy from the station when it would be
too late for Miss Carew to follow her, and when it would still be in
time to prevent any astonishment at her not returning home that night.

Miss Carew, thinking that Molly had gone out to dinner, came into her
bed-room to look for a book. The night was hot and oppressive, but no
one had raised the blinds since the sun had set, and the room was so
dark that she did not at once see Molly. She started nervously, half
expecting one of Molly's impatient and rude exclamations on being
disturbed, and, with an apology, was going away when Molly said gently:

"Stay a minute, Carey; I'm not going to dine out to-night."

"But there is no dinner ordered, and I have just had supper. I am going
out this evening to see a friend."

"Never mind," Molly interrupted, "I can't eat anything. I am going out
for a drive in a hansom in the cool. Would you mind saying that I shall
not want the motor?"

"My dear! are you not well?"

"Not very." And suddenly Miss Carew began to read the great change in
her face. "It has none of it been very good for me, Carey; you have been
quite right. This house and all was a mistake. You have never said it,
but I have seen it in your eyes. And it has not even been in quite good
taste for me to make such a splash--you thought that too. I'm going to
stop it all now, dear, and probably the house will be sold; it's been an
unblest sort of thing."

Miss Carew stared. The tone was so different from any she had ever heard
in Molly's voice; it was very gentle, but exhausted, as if she had been
through an acute crisis in an illness.

"Carey dear, you have always been so kind to me, and I have been very
unkind to you. You will have to know things that will make you hate and
despise me to-morrow. But would you mind giving me one kiss to-night?"

Miss Carew was very nervous at this request, but happily all the best
side of her was roused by something in Molly that, in spite of a vast
difference, recalled the Molly of seven years ago when she had first
seen her. It was a real kiss--a kind of pact between them.

"I wonder if she will ever wish to do the same again!" thought Molly.

Then Miss Carew left her and she called the maid, who brought at her
bidding a long black cloak and a small black toque--insignificant
compared to anything else of Molly's.

The mistress of Westmoreland House drove away in a hansom, with a bag in
her