must own. The world must be coming to an
end, I say. The conduct of people now-a-days
is to be accounted for in no other manner.
When you and I were girls, young women did
not burn down castles, nor marry the deadly
enemies of the friends who had cherished
them.

It is not necessary to give Mrs. Hazeldean's
reply to this letter. It did not silence Lady
Helen, who committed pages of her sentiments
to the tender mercies of the post; but it would
be tedious to quote further from her ladyship's
correspondence.

Side by side with those of Lady Helen came
other letters from the Mother Augustine.

"Let nothing," wrote she, "let no mistaken
counsel induce you to believe evil of our poor
simple Hester. I must tell you that I have got
Cousin Madge as a patient under my care. She
arrived in London sadly burned and shaken
about, and I advised her to come here into
hospital, where I might be able to attend
to her myself. She was very glad to come,
and she already gets quite better. She has
given me all particulars of the strange sad
events at Glenluce. She makes Hester a real
heroine, and it is utterly impossible that the
poor child could be guilty of the crime that is
imputed to her. Lady Humphrey makes no
secret of her share in the transaction. She has
accomplished her work and she has received
her wages. Let us hope that she will yet have
the honesty to clear poor Hester's name. Her
son, who seems a good-hearted young man,
came to see me the other day with his bride.
He deplored his mother's conduct, and
entreated me to believe that he had no share in,
that he was completely in ignorance of, her
plans. He swore that he would never own the
estates of Glenluce. He had quarrelled sadly
with his mother on the subject. She is an unhappy
old woman, after all. The bride of this
young man, little Janet of old times, joined her
husband in assuring me of the innocence of
Hester. Janet spoke very prettily of the girl's
goodness and courage, and acknowledged, with
regret, having annoyed poor Hester, on
occasions, with her humours.

"And now I have reserved for the last a joyful
secret, which I am almost afraid to commit to
paper. Our dear Archie is alive and well. I
dare not say more. Come quickly to London
and bring Hester."

Very joyfully was that journey to London
performed. The mother received the travellers
in her pleasant parlour, the room into which
Hester had been ushered on that memorable
morning after the masquerade ball. There were
with her Miss Madge and Sir Archie. Of
course each of this party had his own story to
tell. But, after all the miseries had been disposed
disposed of, there was exceeding joy in the old
convent of St. Mark.

Five years passed away before the next
important events of this story took place. These
years had made Hester a bright healthy woman.
Only one thing was wanting to make her
thoroughly happy, and this, when it was offered
her, she had put aside. She had twice refused
to be Sir Archie's wife.

"I do not pretend," she said, "that I could
not love you well, if it might be; but it never
can, so long as your mother and the world
believe that I entered your house as a spy—that
I brought ruin on your family."

Nothing would induce her to go back to
Glenluce. Before the doctor and his wife
returned to their home, they left Hester in
France, established as teacher of English in a
quiet convent school.

So the five years passed away. In the mean
time Lady Humphrey had gone to Ireland, to
take possession of her Irish estates; but she
had been obliged to return very quickly whence
she came. No one at Glenluce would touch her
money; no one at Glenluce would till her
ground. It was with difficulty she could procure
for herself even the necessaries of life.
She was hissed and threatened wherever she
went. Her English attendants fled in terror
from the place, and very soon she was
constrained to do likewise.

So her ill-gotten possessions were not sweet
to her ladyship. She returned to Hampton
Court a wretched old woman. She had bitterly
alienated her son. The wife she had coveted for
him was his, with her wealth; but husband and
wife were as strangers to her now. She quietly
settled down to sickness and despair. Old age
came on her quickly. If ever she had a heart,
it was certainly broken.

On her death-bed she cried out for people to
come to her.

"They cannot be so cruel," she said, "as to
let me die, with all this load upon my soul!"

Her son came to her then, and brought his
wife. And then they wrote for Hester, whom
Janet received kindly in her luxurious London
home. These young women had not met
since they sat together one night in a darkening
tower room with an enemy at the gates,
and a bridal dress between them. But they
did not choose to talk of that time just at first.

Hester was more changed than was Janet.
Mrs. Pierce was quite as wilful as ever—quite
as pretty also, though much more amiable and
happy. But Hester had grown taller, and was
much plumper than she used to be. Her timid
girlish shyness had passed away; so also had
the morbidness and melancholy. She was a
sweet loveable woman, with a bright winning
"way" about her; with intellect and feeling in
her tender lovely face.

It was a strange thing to Hester to come
again to Hampton Court; to see once more the
well-known rooms which had been the centre
of her fairyland. It was stranger still the
standing by Lady Humphrey's dying bed.

She had been sent for, to stand there, while
a tardy act of justice was accomplished and
written down. In the presence of Pierce and
the presence of Janet; of Lady Helen Munro,
who had with difficulty been brought to the