leasant
consequences for those dependent upon him. To Alma's questioning she
replied frankly and with self-reproach. It was true that she had
whispered her friend's suspicions of Mrs. Carnaby, but only to one
person, and in strictest confidence. Neither she nor Gerda had met Mrs
Carnaby, and how the whisper could have reached Sibyl's ears was
inconceivable to her.

'It doesn't matter in the least,' said Alma, finally. 'To tell you the
truth, I'm not sorry.'

'Why, that's just what I thought!' exclaimed Dora, with sudden clearing
of her countenance.

In a fortnight or so there came a note from Dymes, written at Brussels.
He had ascertained that Mrs. Strangeways was somewhere on the
Continent, but as yet he could not succeed in 'running her down'. Let
Mrs. Rolfe depend upon his zeal in this search, as in any other matter
in which he could be of use to her. Unfortunately, this envelope came
under Harvey's eyes, and Alma, knowing he had seen it, felt obliged to
speak.

'Mr. Dymes refuses to believe that I shall never play again in public,'
she remarked, putting down his letter, as carelessly as possible, by
her plate at breakfast.

'Does he pester you? If so, it might be better for me to----'

'Oh dear, no! I can manage my own correspondence, Harvey, thank you.'

Her tone of slight petulance was due to fear that he might ask to see
the letter, and it had its effect. But Alma's heart sank at the
deception, and her skill in practising it. Was it impossible to become
what she desired to be, an honest woman! Only yesterday Harvey had
spoken to her with vexation of a piece of untruthfulness in Hughie, and
had begged her to keep a watch upon the child's habit in this respect.
And she had promised, with much earnestness, much concern.

There are women who can breathe only in the air of lies and of
treachery. Alma rebelled against the fate which made her life
dishonourable. Fate--she declared--not the depravity of her own heart.
From the dark day that saw her father's ruin, she had been condemned to
a struggle with circumstances. She meant honestly; she asked no more
than the free exercise of instincts nature had given her; but destiny
was adverse, and step by step had brought her into a position so false,
so hopeless, that she wondered at her strength in living on.

Hughie had begun to learn the maps of countries, and prided himself on
naming them as he turned over an atlas. One day, about this time, she
looked over hi