ss Martingale, where Mrs. Trafford is, has recommended both the
young ladies. There are not many gentle people living there; the
Elysian Fields and Beulah Place are not exactly aristocratic
neighborhoods. But Miss Trafford goes to the vicarage; there are young
children there; and by good luck the senior curate, Mr. Norton, wanted
some help with his two little boys. Miss Davenport is a Latin scholar,
and they took her on the Traffords' recommendation."

"And only her mornings are occupied? Excuse these seemingly trifling
questions, Mr. Huntingdon"--with a sad smile--"but you are speaking of
one who is very dear to us both."

"I will tell you all I know," returned Erle, in his kind-hearted way;
"but I am only a visitor at Mrs. Trafford's. I think, at least I am
sure, that they do a good deal of needle-work in their spare
time--embroidery for shops; they are very poor, you see. There is
always work about; sometimes they are making their gowns. They are
never ashamed of anything they do, they are such thorough gentlewomen.
I do not think you could find a prouder woman than Mrs. Trafford
anywhere, and yet she is frank, and generous to a fault."

"They must be charming people," observed Margaret, thoughtfully.
"Crystal has told us all this in her letters, Raby. Mr. Huntingdon's
account most fully indorses hers."

"Yes," he returned, quietly, "she is in good hands; our prayers have
been answered, Maggie. But now dear, if we have heard all that Mr.
Huntingdon can tell us about our poor child, will you leave me with
him a little, for I want to take him into our confidence; when he
knows all, he may be willing to help us." And Margaret rose without a
word; but her beautiful eyes rested on Erle a moment, wistfully, as
though to bid him to be patient.

And then, as the twilight crept over the room; while the girls were
laughing and chatting round Fay's couch, and wondering--Dora
especially--what could have happened to detain Mr. Huntingdon so late;
and while the blazing pine knots threw a ruddy glow over Raby's pale
face, Erle sat listening to one of the saddest stories he had ever
heard.

And when it was finished they had a long talk together, and Erle told
Raby about Percy's hopeless passion, and of the impatience and
loathing with which Crystal seemed to turn from her handsome young
lover.

"He makes his way with other girls, but not with her," went on Erle;
"and yet he is clever and fascinating, and will be rich, too,