t for some expedients whereby to escape her
prison honorably, and after several fruitless efforts found one.

In their early days there had been a girl-friend between Agatha and
Gertrude, who had always held an attraction for the child Irene.
Wealthy, beautiful, and accomplished, she had married a man who had
already made for himself a name in statesmanship, a cultured and
polished gentleman, and her bridal had been the theme of the day. But
the fiend of intemperance had wrought destruction of her brilliant
prospects, and made her life an open scandal. When it could no longer be
borne, she gathered up the wreck of her fortune and her two little
girls, and opened a boarding-school in a quiet, aristocratic old town.
Irene had met her in New York after her own loss of fortune; and, though
she had disdained sympathy, she was touched by Mrs. Trenholme's
kindliness.

She wrote to her now; and, of half a dozen applications, this was the
only one that elicited a favorable reply. Mrs. Trenholme needed a
teacher of French and music, and she knew Miss Lawrence's accent was
perfect. The salary was not large, being four hundred dollars a year;
but the duties were not very arduous, being all confined to
school-hours.

Much as Irene desired to go, there was some struggle with her pride
before she could bring herself to accept. Only the prospect of that
greater pride being laid in ruins before her eyes, could finally have
induced her. Mrs. Trenholme expressed her delight warmly.

There were strenuous objections on Fred's part when it came to be talked
over. "She had no need. He was as much her protector as her father had
been: indeed, was he not paying back the kindly care to himself,
honoring his father's memory by doing as he would have done?"

Sylvie came to the rescue presently.

"I would let her go, Fred," she counselled. "Beverly is a delightful
place, with many cultured people, and Mrs. Trenholme is just the woman
to have an influence over Irene. You see, she gets so tired of having no
pursuit, no strong interest. I could not endure it myself."

"But she might have--I have dared to dream"--

"Put away dreams, my darling." Sylvie's voice was unconsciously sad.
Then, with a smile, and tears, "If God kept watch over us, and brought
us to our haven, can we not trust him for her,--for them?"

And so they acquiesced.

When Jack Darcy left Miss Lawrence on that fateful evening, his whole
soul was full of unrest. He paced th