have no objection to make
to the house?"

"None whatever. I only ask the question, because I may be obliged to
leave these lodgings rather sooner than I anticipated. Is the money
right?"

"Quite right, ma'am. Here is your receipt."

"Thank you. Don't forget to send Louisa to me as soon as she has done
her tea."

The landlady withdrew. As soon as she was alone again, Magdalen
extinguished the candle, and drew an empty chair close to her own chair
on the hearth. This done, she resumed her former place, and waited
until Louisa appeared. There was doubt in her face as she sat looking
mechanically into the fire. "A poor chance," she thought to herself;
"but, poor as it is, a chance that I must try."

In ten minutes more, Louisa's meek knock was softly audible outside. She
was surprised, on entering the room, to find no other light in it than
the light of the fire.

"Will you have the candles, ma'am?" she inquired, respectfully.

"We will have candles if you wish for them yourself," replied Magdalen;
"not otherwise. I have something to say to you. When I have said it, you
shall decide whether we sit together in the dark or in the light."

Louisa waited near the door, and listened to those strange words in
silent astonishment.

"Come here," said Magdalen, pointing to the empty chair; "come here and
sit down."

Louisa advanced, and timidly removed the chair from its position at her
mistress's side. Magdalen instantly drew it back again. "No!" she said.
"Come closer--come close by me." After a moment's hesitation, Louisa
obeyed.

"I ask you to sit near me," pursued Magdalen, "because I wish to speak
to you on equal terms. Whatever distinctions there might once have been
between us are now at an end. I am a lonely woman thrown helpless on my
own resources, without rank or place in the world. I may or may not keep
you as my friend. As mistress and maid the connection between us must
come to an end."

"Oh, ma'am, don't, don't say that!" pleaded Louisa, faintly.

Magdalen sorrowfully and steadily went on.

"When you first came to me," she resumed, "I thought I should not like
you. I have learned to like you--I have learned to be grateful to you.
From first to last you have been faithful and good to me. The least I
can do in return is not to stand in the way of your future prospects."

"Don't send me away, ma'am!" said Louisa, imploringly. "If you can only
help me with a little money now and then, I'll wait for my