he life or death of others, are better checked at once.
Indulgence in such can do no good, and _may_ do harm.

They had not seen their aunt the night before. And her manner was
somewhat 'carried' and preoccupied when she kissed the girls as they
entered the dining-room, where she was already seated at the table
waiting to read prayers.

A slight misgiving came over Jacinth. She glanced at the sideboard where
the morning letters were always placed. Yes, one or two torn wrappers
were lying there: evidently the letters had come and been opened. For
Miss Alison Mildmay was, as Frances expressed it, 'a _dreadfully_ early
getter-up,' and had always an hour or more to herself before the younger
members of the household appeared.

I am afraid Jacinth's attention that morning was rather distracted. She
sat glancing at her aunt's profile, cold and almost hard, as she was
accustomed to see it, but with just now the addition of some irritable
lines about the forehead which were certainly not _always_ there.

'Something has vexed her, I am certain,' said Jacinth to herself. 'I do
wonder if it has anything to do with Lady Myrtle. Oh dear, if she has
written so as to vex Aunt Alison, and we get blamed for it, and
everything is spoilt!'

CHAPTER IV.

A LETTER AND A DISCUSSION.

'Were you very late last night, Aunt Alison? Are you tired?'

The questions came from Frances, who had noticed the unusual silence at
the breakfast-table--not that they were ever very loquacious, for Eugene
had his meals up-stairs and he was the chatterbox of the party--but
without any of her sister's fears or misgivings. So that she looked up
at her aunt in happy freedom from any self-conscious embarrassment.

'I was not later than I am usually on Fridays,' said Miss Mildmay. 'No,
thank you, I am not tired. Will you have some more tea, Jacinth?'

'Yes, please,' said the elder girl. She was growing more and more
nervous, and yet her anxiety to know if Lady Myrtle really had written
already made her remain near her aunt as long as possible.

Miss Mildmay had apparently finished her own breakfast, for after
handing Jacinth her cup, she took up a little pile of letters which lay
beside her, and drew out one, which she unfolded and glanced at with a
peculiar expression on her face.

'Have you--have you nothing to tell me--no message to give me?' she said
at last, still fingering the letter.

She spoke to both girls, but it seemed to Jacinth as