a false character too. Say no more of the past
—you don't know how you hurt me in speaking
of it. Talk of the future. I think I can help
you—and do you no harm. I think you can help
me, and do me the greatest of all services, in
return. Wait, and you shall hear what I
mean. Suppose you were married—how much
would it cost for you and your husband to
emigrate?"

Louisa mentioned the cost of a steerage
passage to Australia for a man and his wife. She
spoke in low, hopeless tones. Moderate as the
sum was, it looked like unattainable wealth in
her eyes.

Magdalen started in her chair, and took the
girl's hand once more.

"Louisa!" she said, earnestly. "If I gave
you the money, what would you do for me in
return?"

The proposal seemed to strike Louisa speechless
with astonishment. She trembled violently,
and said nothing. Magdalen repeated her
words.

"Oh, ma'am, do you mean it!" said the girl.
"Do you really mean it?"

"Yes," replied Magdalen; "I really mean it.
What would you do for me in return?"

"Do?" repeated Louisa. "Oh, what is there I
would not do!" She tried to kiss her mistress's
hand; but Magdalen would not permit it.
She resolutely, almost roughly, drew her hand
away.

"l am laying you under no obligation," she
said. "We are serving each other—that is all.
Sit quiet, and let me think."

For the next ten minutes, there was silence in
the room. At the end of that time, Magdalen
took out her watch, and held it close to the
grate. There was just firelight enough to show
her the hour. It was close on six o'clock.

"Are you composed enough to go down stairs,
and deliver a message?" she asked, rising from
her chair as she spoke to Louisa again. "It is
a very simple message—it is only to tell the boy
that I want a cab, as soon as he can get me one.
I must go out immediately. You shall know why
later in the evening. I have much more to say
to you—but there is no time to say it now.
When I am gone, bring your work up here, and
wait for my return. I shall be back before
bedtime."

Without another word of explanation, she
hurriedly lit a candle, and withdrew into the
bedroom to put on her bonnet and shawl.

CHAPTER II.

BETWEEN nine and ten o'clock the same
evening, Louisa, waiting anxiously, heard
the long-expected knock at the house door.
She ran down stairs at once, and let her
mistress in.

Magdalen's face was flushed. She showed far
more agitation on returning to the house than
she had shown on leaving it. "Keep your place
at the table," she said to Louisa, impatiently;
"but lay aside your work. I want you to attend
carefully to what I am going to say."

Louisa obeyed. Magdalen seated herself at
the opposite side of the table, and moved the
candles, so as to obtain a clear and uninterrupted
view of her servant's face.

"Have you noticed a respectable elderly
woman," she began abruptly, "who has been here
once or twice, in the last fortnight, to pay me a
visit?"

"Yes, ma'am; I think I let her in, the second
time she came. An elderly person, named Mrs.
Attwood?"

"That is the person I mean. Mrs. Attwood
is Mr. Loscombe's housekeeper; not the
housekeeper at his private residence, but the
housekeeper at his offices in Lincoln's Inn. I
promised to go and drink tea with her, some
evening this week—and I have been to-night. It
is strange of me, is it not, to be on these
familiar terms with a woman in Mrs. Attwood's
situation?"

Louisa made no answer in words. Her face
spoke for her: she could hardly avoid thinking
it strange.

"I had a motive for making friends with Mrs.
Attwood," Magdalen went on. "She is a
widow, with a large family of daughters. Her
daughters are all in service. One of them is an
under-housemaid, in the service of Admiral
Bartram, at St. Crux-in-the-Marsh. I found
that out from Mrs. Attwood's master; and as
soon as I arrived at the discovery, I privately
determined to make Mrs. Attwood's acquaintance.
Stranger still, is it not?"

Louisa began to look a little uneasy. Her
mistress's manner was at variance with her
mistress's words—it was plainly suggestive of
something startling to come.

"What attraction Mrs. Attwood finds in my
society," Magdalen continued, "I cannot
presume to say. I can only tell you, she has seen
better days; she is an educated person; and
she may like my society on that account. At
any rate, she has readily met my advances towards
her. What attraction I find in this good woman,
on my side, is soon told. I have a great
curiosity—an unaccountable curiosity, you will
think—about the present course of household
affairs at St. Crux-in-the-Marsh. Mrs.
Attwood's daughter is a good girl, and constantly
writes to her mother. Her mother is proud
of the letters and proud of the girl, and is
ready enough to talk about her daughter,
and her daughter's place. That is Mrs.
Attwood's attraction to me. You understand, so
far?"

Yes—Louisa understood. Magdalen went on.

"Thanks to Mrs. Attwood and Mrs. Attwood's
daughter," she said, "I know some curious
particulars already of the household at St. Crux.
Servants' tongues and servants' letters—as I
need not tell you—are oftener occupied with
their masters and mistresses, than their masters
and mistresses suppose. The only mistress at