articular--black hair for
blonde, strength for fragility, and the fire of those dark eyes for the
calm, childlike innocence of Marion Hobart's.

Only a moment sufficed to make these observations: the next instant the
young girl saw the picture in her hand and sprung down from the chair
upon which she had been standing, with an agitation entirely different
from anything which she had before exhibited. Her pale face was for the
instant deeply flushed--Bell Crawford was sure of it--and there was
something more passionate than usual in the sad eyes. Her lips trembled,
and her hostess grew both pained and alarmed in the belief that she was
about to utter harsh and angry words. But if the eyes of Bell had not
been mistaken, and there had really been such an agitation raging in the
breast of the young girl, certainly a most remarkable change had come
over her before she had taken the two or three steps forward and reached
the bureau where Miss Crawford was standing. She was herself again,
completely; and her words, when they came, were such as might have been
expected of her from previous observation.

"Please do not look at that!" she said, reaching out her hand to take
it. Then she instantly added: "But you _have_ seen it. It was my own
fault. I should not have left it lying open in that manner. I did not
wish you to see it, or any one."

"I am really sorry," said Bell. "I took it up without thinking, and I
hope that you will not think that I wished to pry into any secret of
yours." She was a little ashamed at her slight breach of etiquette, and
a good deal pained; and her strange guest seemed to be at once aware of
both feelings. Before Bell knew what she was about to do, Marion had
thrust the locket into her bosom, then laid (not _thrown_) her arms
around her neck, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Please do not be hurt or angry with me," she said, her voice very low
and her whole manner childlike. "It was not wrong for you to look at the
picture. It was wrong in me to pain you. It is the picture of a very
dear friend--of my family." There was the least instant of hesitation
before adding the last three words. "If you do not wish very much, I
will not tell you his name, for--for reasons that you would not
understand." Another slight instant of hesitation in the middle of the
sentence.

"Oh, by no means--do not tell me the name. You would pain me if you did
so," answered Bell. "Now let us forget all about it, and only thi