ttle girl, she was
in what she fancied some great trouble, and she cried: "Oh, take me
in--pray take me in! Keep me safe! Hide me!" And then she told Modeste
everything, speaking rapidly and disconnectedly, thankful to have some
one to whom she could open her heart. In default of Modeste she would
have spoken to stone walls.

"And what will you do now, my poor darling?" asked the old nurse, as soon
as she understood that her young lady had come back to her, "with weary
foot and broken wing," from what she had assured her on her departure
would be a brilliant excursion.

"Oh! I don't know," answered Jacqueline, in utter discouragement; "I am
too worn out to think or to do anything. Let me rest; that is all."

"Why don't you go to see your stepmother?"

"My stepmother? Oh, no! She is at the bottom of all that has happened to
me."

"Or Madame d'Argy? Or Madame de Talbrun? Madame de Talbrun is the one who
would give you good advice."

Jacqueline shook her head with a sad smile.

"Let me stay here. Don't you remember--years ago--but it seems like
yesterday--all the rest is like a nightmare--how I used to hide myself
under your petticoats, and you would say, going on with your knitting:
'You see she is not here; I can't think where she can be.' Hide me now
just like that, dear old Modeste. Only hide me."

And Modeste, full of heartfelt pity, promised to hide her "dear child"
from every one, which promise, however, did not prevent her, for she was
very self-willed, from going, without Jacqueline's knowledge, to see
Madame de Talbrun and tell her all that had taken place. She was hurt and
amazed at her reception by Giselle, and at her saying, without any offer
of help or words of sympathy, "She has only reaped what she has sown."
Giselle would have been more than woman had not Fred, and a remembrance
of the wrongs that he had suffered through Jacqueline, now stood between
them. For months he had been the prime object in her life; her mission of
comforter had brought her the greatest happiness she had ever known. She
tried to make him turn his attention to some serious work in life; she
wanted to keep him at home, for his mother's sake, she thought; she
fancied she had inspired him with a taste for home life. If she had
examined herself she might have discovered that the task she had
undertaken of doing good to this young man was not wholly for his sake
but partly for her own. She wanted to see him nearly every day and