sses her! How _can_ you be afraid of her? How can
you doubt one minute that she loves you enough to forgive anything? Oh,
if I had such a mother, would I stay away from her, and cheat and
conceal, and trust a girl like Berry Joy, and a bad man like this
Alexander, and not trust her?--not go to her first of all for help and
advice? Think how good and kind she is, how glad to help
everybody,--poor people, servants; think how lovely she has been to
me,--and, of course, she loves you a hundred times more! How can you
hesitate one minute? Oh, go straight to her, dear, dear Georgie; tell
her all about it, your own self. She will know just what to do. She will
make it all right for you. Think how happy you will be not to be afraid
of anything any more. Oh, Georgie, do, do!"

"Why, Candace, I hardly know you," faltered Georgie; and she spoke
truly, for Candace in her intense eagerness seemed to grow out of and
beyond herself, and looked taller, older, quite unlike the shy Candace
of every day. Then the passion of her appeal caught hold of Georgie's
weakness. Deep feeling is contagious, and there are moments when cowards
become temporarily brave. Candace's rush of words, her mother's tender
look and attitude as she held Marian close to her, or, it may be, some
swift impulse from her good angel, seemed to melt her out of her mood of
resistance. How it happened she could not have told, she never could
tell; but a sudden strength came to her, and the next moment she was out
in the hall. Mrs. Gray, slowly coming upstairs, was clasped in a wild,
despairing embrace.

"Oh, mamma! I want you. Oh, mamma! I've something to tell you," cried
Georgie. Her mother, whose smile had changed to a look of pale
amazement, could not speak. She suffered herself to be swept away. The
door of Georgie's room closed behind them; and Gertrude, who was
following close behind, was left on the landing to confront the equally
surprised Candace.

"What is it? What is Georgie going to say to mamma?" demanded Gertrude,
in a frightened whisper.

"She is going to tell her about that horrible man who has been making
her so unhappy," replied Candace.

"Going to tell mamma! oh, how did she ever get courage?"

"I begged her--I told her it was the only way."

"You! why, Cannie, how did you dare?" cried Gertrude. "I never would
have ventured to do that."

"So Georgie said," replied Candace, simply; "but I was sure the thing to
do was for her to go straight to