Margaret to get up and follow her to the house. Of what Mrs. Murray would
do or say when she was told that the girl she had received into her
house, and to whom she had shown every kindness in her power, was not her
old friend's granddaughter but a sheer impostor, Eleanor never even
thought. If she had taken Mrs. Murray's probable feelings into
consideration in any way, she would merely have supposed that indignation
at the liberty that had been taken with her would swallow up any kindly
liking that she might have been beginning to feel for her.

The silence that had fallen between the two girls had lasted fully three
minutes before Margaret lifted her face from her hands and rising to her
feet, faced Eleanor.

"I have thought over everything you have said, and I find I cannot do it
after all."

"But you have told me that already," Eleanor said, restraining her
impatience with difficulty. "Come along and let us get it over."

"No, no; you do not understand. I mean I cannot turn you out from here.
I will go on with it. I had not thought about Mrs. Danvers not taking you
in my place; but I believe you are right, and that she would not. So I
shall go on being Eleanor Carson until--until--well, I suppose until we
are found out."

Eleanor shook her head. "You will change your mind again to-morrow," she
said curtly.

Margaret flushed. "No," she replied steadily, "I will not. You may
believe me when I say I shall not. You see, Eleanor, when I first wanted
so much to be in your place and go to The Cedars I had no idea what was
before me. I was disappointed when I found out, and so, of course, my
wish was to change back into myself again; and I never thought of the
effect my change of purpose would have upon you. But this time I am doing
it with my eyes open."

There was a new ring in Margaret's voice, a look of resolution on her
face that was strange to it, and Eleanor, glancing at her in amazement,
realised that she was showing a latent strength of purpose that had
perhaps for the first time in her sheltered, uneventful life been called
out in her. Nevertheless she refused to believe that Margaret really
meant what she said.

"But the dishonesty you spoke of just now," she said. "What about that;
and your dislike to the deception we are both practising? That remains
the same."

"I know," said Margaret in a low tone, a shadow crossing her face and
dimming the look of courageous resolve it wore. "But that is unavoidab