ight."

The two looked at each other for a moment, and then Margaret turned away
with the mien of an insulted princess.

"I was wrong to come. I thought that you would be true to the old bond
of friendship between us. I shall never come to you again."

Poor Janetta's heart was very tender, although her resolution was
impregnable. She ran after Margaret, putting her hands on her arm, and
imploring her with tears to forgive her for her refusal. "If it were
only anything else, Margaret, dear! If only you did not want me to do
what your father and mother do not wish! Don't you see that you are
trying to deceive them? If you were acting openly it would be a
different thing! Don't be angry with me for wanting to do right!"

"I am not at all angry," said Margaret, with stateliness. "I am very
disappointed, that is all. I do not see that I am deceiving anybody by
sending a message to Wyvis. But I will not ask you again."

"If only I could!" sighed Janetta, in deep distress and confusion of
mind. But her anchor of truth and straightforwardness was the thing of
all others that she relied on for safety, and she did not let go her
hold. In spite of Margaret's cold and haughty displeasure, Janetta
kissed her affectionately, and could not refrain from saying, "Dear, I
would do anything for you that I thought right. But don't--don't deceive
your father and mother."

"I will not, as you shall see," returned Margaret, and she left the
house without again looking at her former friend. Janetta felt very
bitterly, as she watched the graceful figure down the street, that the
old friendship had indeed become impossible in its older sense. Her very
faithfulness to the lines in which it had been laid down now made it an
offence to Margaret.

Janetta's direct and straightforward dealing had the effect of driving
Margaret, though chiefly out of perversity, to do likewise. Miss Adair
was not accustomed to be withstood, and, during the unexpected
opposition with which her wishes had been met, her mind had turned very
often to Janetta with unswerving faith in her old friend's readiness to
help her at an emergency.

In this faith she considered that she had been cruelly disappointed. And
her mingled anger, shame, and sorrow so blinded her to the circumstances
in which she stood, that she walked quietly up to Lady Caroline and
Alicia Stone in Beaminster High Street, and did not think of hiding her
escapade at all.

"My dearest child, where