d never felt
for a woman in all his life before. And she was a mere girl yet! He knew
that she would be ten times more beautiful in a few years' time.

"You were right to come to me," he murmured, scarcely knowing what he
said as he gazed into the depths of the lustrous dark eyes. "You need
have no fear--you will succeed."

Cynthia drew a long breath. Her attitude changed a little; limbs and
features seemed to relax, the color died slowly out of her flushed
cheeks.

"You mean," she said, in a lower voice, "that you do not think, after
all, that I was very wrong--bold, unwomanly, I mean--to speak to you,
when I did not know you, in the street last night?"

"Certainly not."

"I had no claim on you, I know," proceeded the girl, the light of
excitement fading out of her face, and the perfect mouth beginning to
quiver as she spoke. "It was only a fancy of mine that, as you had
seemed to understand so well how dreadful it was to be alone--alone in
this great terrible London--you would hold out a helping hand to a girl
who only wanted work--just enough to gain her daily bread." She sobbed a
little, and put her hand over her eyes.

"Miss West," said Hubert seriously, with a desperate effort to retain a
composure which was very hard to keep, "I can only assure you that I
shall consider it an honor to be allowed to help in bringing you to the
notice of men, who will do far more for you than I can hope to do."

She withdrew her hand from her eyes and looked at him with a brilliant
smile, though the tears were still wet on her eyelashes.

"You think I am worth helping?" she said. "And you will help me--you
yourself?"

"I will not rest," answered Hubert. "I will work night and day, and give
body and soul, and I'll see you a _prima donna_ yet!"

They both laughed, and then, obeying an impulse which stirred their
hearts alike, held out their hands to each other and exchanged a
friendly grasp.

CHAPTER XV.

The little village of Beechfield, like all other villages, had its dark
corners where vice and misery reigned supreme. In old times Mr. and Mrs.
Rumbold--good people as they were in their own fashion--had been content
to leave these darker places to themselves; the decent religious poor
of the parish gave them enough to do. But under the new Rector's rule a
new system had begun. The Reverend Maurice Evandale thought that his
duty lay amongst the lost sheep as well as amongst those already in the
fold. If he h