d. Pray forgive me, Miss St. Just! I ought not to intrude
thus!"

"Go on!" said Valencia.

"I--I really have no more to say. I have said too much. I do not know
how I have been betrayed so far," stammered Frank, who had the just
dislike of his school of anything like display on such solemn matters.

"Can you tell us too much truth? Mr. Headley is right, Mr. Mellot, and
you are wrong."

"It will not be the first time, Miss St. Just. But what I spoke in jest,
he has answered in earnest."

"He was quite right. We are none of us half earnest enough. There is
Lucia with the children." And she rose and walked across the garden.

"You have moved the fair trifler somewhat," said Claude.

"God grant it! but I cannot think what made me."

"Why think? You spoke out nobly, and I shall not forget your sermon."

"I was not preaching at you, most affectionate and kindly of men."

"And laziest of men, likewise. What can I do now, at this moment, to be
of use to any one? Set me my task."

But Frank was following with his eyes Valencia, as she went hurriedly
across to Lucia. He saw her take two of the children at once off her
sister's hands, and carry them away down a walk. A few minutes
afterwards he could hear her romping with them; but he could not have
guessed, from the silver din of those merry voices, that Valencia's
heart was heavy within her.

For her conscience was really smitten. Of what use was she in the world?
Major Campbell had talked to her often about her duties to this person
and to that, of this same necessity of being useful; but she had escaped
from the thought, as we have seen her, in laughing at poor little
Scoutbush on the very same score. But why had not Major Campbell's
sermons touched her heart as this one had? Who can tell? Who is there
among us to whom an oft-heard truth has not become a tiresome and
superfluous commonplace, till one day it has flashed before us utterly
new, indubitable, not to be disobeyed, written in letters of fire across
the whole vault of heaven? All one can say is, that her time was not
come. Besides, she looked on Major Campbell as a being utterly superior
to herself; and that very superiority, while it allowed her to be as
familiar with him as she chose, excused her in her own eyes from opening
to him her real heart. She could safely jest with him, let him pet her,
play at being his daughter, while she felt that between him and her lay
a gulf as wide as between earth and