astingly going somewhere, Theo, and Elin
and I stay at home, as usual. Lady Throckmorton will never invite us, I
know. Where are your things going to come from?" snappishly.

"Pamela!" was Theo's deprecating reply. "They are the things that
belonged to her wedding outfit. She never wore them after Mr. Brunwalde
died, you know, Joanna, and she is going to lend them to me."

"Let us go to sleep, Elin," Joanna grumbled, drowsily. "We know all
about it now. It's just like Pam, with her partiality. She never offered
to lend them to us, and we have wanted them times and times, worse than
ever Theo does now."

And then Theo went to bed also; but did not sleep, of course; only lay
with eyes wide open to the darkness, as any other girl would have done,
thinking excitedly of Pamela's generous gifts, and of Lady Throckmorton,
and, perhaps, more than once the strange chance which had brought to
light again the wedding-day, that was never more than the sad ghost of a
wedding, and the bridal gifts that had come to the bride from a dead
hand.

CHAPTER II.

THE ARRIVAL.

A great deal of hard work was done during the following week. The
remodelling of the outfit was no light labor: but Pamela was steady to
her trust, in her usual practical style. She trimmed, and fitted, and
cut, until the always-roughened surface of her thin forefinger was
rougher than ever. She kept Theo at work at the smaller tasks she chose
to trust to her, and watched her sharply, with no shadow of the softened
mood she had given the candle-lighted bedroom a glimpse of. She was as
severe upon any dereliction from duty as ever, and the hardness of her
general demeanor was not a whit relaxed. Indeed, sometimes Theo found
herself glancing up furtively from her tasks, to look at the thin, sharp
face, and wondering if she had not dreamed that her arms had clasped a
throbbing, shaken form, when they faced together the ghost of long dead
love.

But the preparations were completed at last, and the trunks packed; and
Lady Throckmorton had written to say that her carriage would meet her
young relative's arrival. So the time came when Theo, in giving her
farewell kisses, clung a little closely about Pamela's neck, and when
the cab-door had been shut, saw her dimly through the smoky glass, and
the mistiness in her eyes; saw her shabby dress, and faded face, and
half-longed to go back; remembered sadly how many years had passed since
she had left the dingy sea-