life. She contradicted no one, she rebuked
no one, she asked forbearance and pity from
no one, she merely wept, and said she was
sure her brother-in-law would be kind to
the girls, and that she would not like to be
a trouble to Mr. Creswell herself, and was
sure her Tom would not have liked her to
be a trouble to Mr. Creswell. On this point
the brother of the "departed saint," as the
widow called the amiable idler of whose
presence she considered the world unworthy,
by no means agreed with her. Mr.
Creswell was of opinion that so long as
trouble kept clear of Tom, Tom would
have been perfectly indifferent as to where
it lighted. But he did not say so. He had
not much respect for his sister-in-law's
intellect, but he pitied her, and he was not
only generous to her distress, but also
merciful to her weakness. He offered her
a home at Woolgreaves, and it was arranged
that she should "try" to go there, after a
while. But she never tried, and she never
went, she "did not see the good of"
anything, and in six months after Tom
Creswell's death his daughters were settled
at Woolgreaves, and it is doubtful whether
the state of orphanhood was ever in any
case a more tempered, modified misfortune
than in theirs.

Thus, the family party at the handsome
house, which Mrs. Ashurst and her
daughter were about to visit, was composed
of Mr. Creswell, his son Tom, a specimen
of the schoolboy class, of whom this history
has already afforded a glimpse, and the
Misses Creswell, the Maud and Gertrude of
whom Marian had, in her grief, spoken in
terms of sharp and contemptuous disparagement,
which, though not entirely censurable,
judged from her point of view,
were certainly not altogether deserved.

Mr. Creswell earnestly desired to befriend
the visitor and her daughter. Gertrude
Creswell thought it would be very "nice" to
be "great friends" with that clever Miss
Ashurst, and had, with all the impulsiveness
of generous girlhood, exulted in the idea
of being, in her turn, able to extend kindness
to people in need of it, even as she
and her sister had been. But Maud, who
though her actual experience of life had
been identical with her sister's, had more
natural intuition and caution, checked the
enthusiasm with which Gertrude drew this
picture:

"We must be very careful, Gerty dear,"
she said. "I fancy this clever Miss Ashurst
is very proud. People say you never find
out the nature of any one until trouble
brings it to the light. It would never do to let
her think one had any notion of doing her
services, you know, she might not like it
from us; uncle's kindness to them is a
different thing; but we must remember
that we are, in reality, no better off than
she is."

Gertrude reddened. She had not spoken
with the remotest idea of patronage of Miss
Ashurst in her mind, and her sister's warning
pained her. Gertrude had a dash of
her father's insouciance in her, though in
him it had been selfish joviality, and in her
it was only happy thoughtlessness. It had
occurred to Gertrude, more than once before
to-day, to think she should like to be married
to some one whom she could love very
much indeed, and away from this fine place
which did not belong to them, though her
uncle was very kind, in a home of her own.
Maud had a habit of saying and looking
things which made Gertrude entertain such
notions, and now she had, with the best intentions,
injured her pleasure in the anticipation
of the visit of Mrs. Ashurst and
Marian.

It was probably this little incident which
lent the slight touch of coldness and restraint
to the manner of Gertrude Creswell
which Marian instantly felt, and which she
erroneously interpreted. When they had
met formerly, there had been none of this
hesitating formality.

"These girls don't want us here," said
Marian to herself; ''they grudge us their
uncle's friendship, lest it should take a form
which would deprive them of any of his
money."

Perhaps Marian was not aware of the
resolve lurking in her heart even then, that
such was precisely the form which that
friendship should be made to take. The
evil warp in her otherwise frank and noble
mind told in this. Gertrude Creswell, to
whom in particular she imputed mercenary
feeling, and the forethought of a calculating
jealousy, was entirely incapable of anything
of the kind, and was actuated wholly by her
dread that Marian should misinterpret any
premature advance towards intimacy on
her part as an impertinence. Thus the
foundation of a misunderstanding between
the two was laid.

Marian's thoughts had been busy with
the history of the sisters, as she and her
mother approached Woolgreaves. She had
heard her father describe Tom Creswell and
his wife, and dwell upon the fortunate
destiny which had transferred Maud and
Gertrude to their uncle's care. She thought