of her
as such with what kindness you can. Of one thing we may be sure,
her punishment will far exceed her sin.--Thanking you for all your
past kindness, and wishing you in the future every good thing, I
am, yours sincerely, WALTER HEPBURN.'

It was a sad letter, conveying a great deal more than was actually
expressed. Gladys threw it from her, and, laying her head on her hands,
sobbed bitterly.

'My dear,' cried the little spinster, in sympathetic concern, 'don't
break your heart. You have done a great deal--far more, I assure you,
than almost any one else would have done. You cannot help the poor girl
having chosen the way of transgressors.'

'It is not Liz I am crying for at present, Miss Peck,' said Gladys
mournfully; 'it is for Walter. It is a heartbreaking letter. I cannot,
dare not, comfort him. I must take it to Christina to read.'

She picked it up, and ran to the stillroom, where the happy and placid
Teen sat by the open window with some sewing in her hand, love making
the needle fly in and out with a wondrous speed. Her resentment against
Liz for her ingratitude had taken the edge off her grief, and she was
disposed to be as hard upon her as the rest of the world.

'Oh, Teen, I have had a letter from Walter. I shall read it to you. It
is dreadful!' Gladys cried; and, with trembling voice, she read the
epistle to the little seamstress. '_Isn't_ it dreadful? Away to Dublin!
What will she do there?'

Teen laid down her sewing and looked at Gladys with the simplest wonder
in her large eyes. She could scarcely believe that a human being could
be so entirely innocent and unsuspecting as Gladys Graham, for it was
quite evident she did not really know what Walter meant by saying Liz
was lost.

'He says her punishment will be greater than her sin, whatever he means.
Do you know what he means?'

'Ay, fine,' was Teen's reply, and her mouth trembled.

'Tell me, then. I want to understand it,' cried Gladys, with a touch of
impatience. 'There have been things kept from me; and if I had known
everything I could have done more for her, and perhaps she would not
have run away.'

'There was naething kept frae ye; if ye hadna been a perfect bairn in
a'thing, ye wad hae seen through a'thing. That was why a' the folks--yer
grand freen's, I mean--were sae angry because ye had Liz here. But I
believed in her mysel' up till she ran awa'. Although a lassie's led
awa' she's no' aye lost; but I doot, I