ly the feelings of her companions.
She had made many resolutions before now--too many! And they had known
but a short lifetime. But never before had they been born of suffering,
and never before had they been strengthened by prayer. This last
resolution was made in a very humble and anxious spirit, strangely
different from Dreda's former airy complacence.

"Norah," she said slowly at last, "Norah, you have told me the truth,
and it must have been awfully difficult. It's your affair and mine,
Norah; let's keep it to ourselves. If you were going back to school, it
might be your duty to tell; but you are not, and you want all the girls
to remember you kindly. I don't see that it would make anyone happier
to know. They believe that it was a mistake for which no one was to
blame. Let them go on believing it! It will be better for you, and for
everyone else. I promise you, Norah, I will never tell."

"Not--not Susan?"

"Oh, never Susan Susan last of all."

"Why last?"

"Because you, like her best, and because she would be so sorry. Susan
is so good that it hurts her when people do wrong. I couldn't bear
Susan to think badly of me, and neither would you Susan shall never
know."

Then for the first time the tears started to Norah's eyes.

"Oh, Dreda, you are generous," she sighed; "you know how to forgive."
Then, with a sudden flash of intuition, "Susan will write books. She
will be great; but _you_, Dreda, you will live! You will be better than
famous--you will be loved!"

When Mrs Saxon entered the room a few minutes later her quick eyes
realised at once the mental exhaustion of her two patients, and she
escorted her daughter back to her room and tucked her up in bed.

Dreda's fair head rested on the pillow; but her eyes followed her
mother's movements about the room with a wistful expression whose appeal
could not be denied. Mrs Saxon asked no questions, but with true
mother insight she divined the need at the girl's heart, and hastened to
fill it.

"Try to sleep, my little girl," she said fondly. "Try to rest. Take
care of yourself for my sake. You are more precious to me than ever,
since Rowena became engaged. You don't know how many hundreds of times
in the last few weeks I have comforted myself by thinking, `I have
Dreda! Thank God for Dreda! When Rowena goes I shall not be lonely. I
shall have my other dear big girl.'"

Dreda's face glowed. The dull eyes shone with happiness and
exp