r
_cured,_ as he called it. But it was a cure that left the wound open as
a door to the entrance of evil things. He tore the letter into a
thousand pieces, and throw them into the empty grate--not even showed
it the respect of burning it with fire.

Mary had got her affairs settled, and was again in the old place, the
hallowed temple of so many holy memories. I do not forget it was a shop
I call a temple. In that shop God had been worshiped with holiest
worship--that is, obedience--and would be again. Neither do I forget
that the devil had been worshiped there too--in what temple is he not?
He has fallen like lightning from heaven, but has not yet been cast out
of the earth. In that shop, however, he would be worshiped no more for
a season.

At once she wrote to Letty, saying the room which had been hers was at
her service as soon as she pleased to occupy it: she would take her
father's.

Letty breathed a deep breath of redemption, and made haste to accept
the offer. But to let Mrs. Wardour know her resolve was a severe strain
on her courage.

I will not give the conversation that followed her announcement that
she was going to visit Mary Marston. Her aunt met it with scorn and
indignation. Ingratitude, laziness, love of low company, all the old
words of offense she threw afresh in her face. But Letty could not help
being pleased to find that her aunt's storm no longer swamped her boat.
When she began, however, to abuse Mary, calling her a low creature, who
actually gave up an independent position to put herself at the beck and
call of a fine lady, Letty grew angry.

"I must not sit and hear you call Mary names, aunt," she said. "When
you cast me out, she stood by me. You do not understand her. She is the
only friend I ever had-except Tom."

"You dare, you thankless hussy, to say such a thing in the house where
you've been clothed and fed and sheltered for so many years! You're the
child of your father with a vengeance! Get out of my sight!"

"Aunt--" said Letty, rising.

"No aunt of yours!" interrupted the wrathful woman.

"Mrs. Wardour," said Letty, with dignity, "you have been my benefactor,
but hardly my friend: Mary has taught me the difference. I owe you more
than you will ever give me the chance of repaying you. But what
friendship could have stood for an hour the hard words you have been in
the way of giving me, as far back as I can remember! Hard words take
all the sweetness from shelter. Mary is th