lowed the woman up stairs.

"Why did you not attend Mrs. Stillwater to her room?" sternly demanded
the Iron King, fixing his eyes severely on his granddaughter, as soon as
the visitor was out of hearing.

"It is not usual to do anything of the sort, sir, except in the case of
the guest being a very distinguished person or a very dear friend. My
ex-governess is neither. She shall, however, be treated with all due
respect by me so long as she remains under your roof," quietly replied
Cora.

"You had best see to it that she is," retorted the Iron King, as he
stalked up stairs to his own room, followed by his valet.

Cora returned to the drawing room, and seated herself in her arm chair,
and put her feet upon her foot-stool, and leaned back, to appearance
quite composed, but in reality very much perturbed. Had she acted well
in her manner to her grandfather's guest? She did not know. She could
not, therefore, feel at ease. She certainly did not treat Mrs.
Stillwater with rudeness or hauteur; she was quite incapable of doing
so; yet, on the other hand, neither had she treated her ex-governess
with kindness or courtesy. She had been calm and cold in her reception
of the visitor; that was all. But was she right? After all, she knew no
positive evil of the woman. She had only strong circumstantial evidence
of her unworthiness. She recalled an old saying of her father's:

"Better trust a hundred rogues than distrust one honest man."

Yet all Cora's instincts warned her not to trust Rose Stillwater.

After all, she could do nothing--at least at present. She would wait the
developments of time, and then, perhaps, be able to see her duty more
clearly. Meanwhile, for family peace and good feeling, she would be
civil to Rose Stillwater. Half an hour passed, and her meditations were
interrupted by the entrance of the guest. Mrs. Stillwater seemed
determined not to understand coldness or to take offense. She came in,
drew her chair to the fire, and spread out her pretty hands over its
glow, cooing her delight to be with dear friends again.

"Oh, darling Cora," she purred, "you do not know--you cannot even
fancy--the ineffable sense of repose I feel in being here, after all the
turbulence of the past year. You read my letter to your dearest
grandfather?"

"Yes," answered Mrs. Rothsay.

"From that you must have seen to what straits I was reduced. Think!
After having sold everything I possessed in the world--even all my
clothi