would have to pay another girl in my position--if I have any there. I
haven't said anything about it to her, because I wanted to work off my
indebtedness to her on account of what she spent on me in bringing me
up--she never let me forget that in those first seven years! I want to
give more than I've had," she said proudly, "and sometime I shall tell
her of it."

"But you have never given her any love?"

"No, I couldn't give her that.--Do you blame me?"

"No; you have done your whole duty by her. May I suggest that when you
leave her you still make your home with us here in Flamsted? You have no
other home, my child."

"No, I have no other home," she repeated mechanically.

"I know, at least, two that are open to you at any time you choose to
avail yourself of their hospitality. Mrs. Caukins would be so glad to
have you both for her daughters' sake and her own. The Colonel desires
this as much as she does and--" he hesitated a moment, "now that Romanzo
has his position in the New York office, and has married and settled
there, there could be no objection so far as I can see."

There was no response.

"But if you do not care to consider that, there is another. About seven
months ago, Mrs. Googe--"

"Mrs. Googe?"

She turned to him a face from which every particle of color had faded.

"Yes, Mrs. Googe. She would have spoken to you herself long before this,
but, you know, Aileen, how she would feel in the circumstances--she
would not think of suggesting your coming to her from Mrs. Champney. I
feel sure she is waiting for you to take the initiative."

"Mrs. Googe?" she repeated, continuing to stare at him--blankly, as if
she had heard but those two words of all that he was saying.

"Why, yes, Mrs. Googe. Is there anything so strange in that? She has
always loved you, and she said to me, only the other day, 'I would love
to have her young companionship in my house'--she will never call it
home, you know, until her son returns--'to be as a daughter to me'--"

"Daughter!--I--want air--"

She swayed forward in speaking. Father Honore sprang and caught her or
she would have fallen. He placed her firmly against the chair back and
opened the window. The keen night air charged with frost quickly revived
her.

"You were sitting too near the fire; I should have remembered that you
had come in from the cold," he said, delicately regarding her feelings;
"let me get you a glass of water, Aileen."

She put out her h