It is a work we all want done, and would gladly take part in had we the qualifications for it.  It is a work which, if well and honestly done, will deserve the best thanks of England and of the whole civilized world.  She may not live to tell us, but her life will not have been lived in vain if she prove successful in getting at the truth of what is done By order of the Czar, and presenting it to the Czar himself.

We cannot travel with her bodily; we cannot hunger or perish with cold in her company; we cannot fight with dogs and wolves as she must do; we cannot, with her, go into the dens of immorality and fever; but we can determine upon some way of helping her, and I think we shall only be too thankful to join her friends who by giving of their means are participating in so grand a mission.

THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND.

A Story Re-told.

CHAPTER I.

MY ARRIVAL AT DEEPLEY WALLS.

“Miss Janet Hope,
    To the care of Lady Chillington,
        Deepley Walls, near Eastbury,
            Midlandshire.”

“There, miss, I’m sure that will do famously,” said Chirper, the overworked, oldish young person whose duty it was to attend to the innumerable wants of the young lady boarders of Park Hill Seminary.  She had just written out, in a large sprawling hand, a card as above which card was presently to be nailed on to the one small box that held the whole of my worldly belongings.

“And I think, miss,” added Chirper, meditatively, as she held out the card at arm’s length, and gazed at it admiringly, “that if I was to write out another card similar, and tie it round your arm, it would, mayhap, help you in getting safe to your journey’s end.”

I, a girl of twelve, was the Janet Hope indicated above, and I had been looking over Chirper’s shoulder with wondering eyes while she addressed the card.

“But who is Lady Chillington, and where is Deepley Walls, and what have I to do with either, Chirper, please?” I asked.

“If there is one thing in little girls more hateful than another, it is curiosity,” answered Chirper, with her mouth half-full of nails.  “Curiosity has been the bane of many of our sex.  Witness Bluebeard’s unhappy wife.  If you want to know more, you must ask Mrs. Whitehead.  I have my instructions and I act on them.”

Meeting Mrs. Whitehead half-an-hour later, as she was coming down the stone corridor that led from the refectory, I did ask that lady precisely the same questions that I had put to Chirper.  Her frosty glance, filled with a cold surprise, smote me even through her spectacles; and I shrank a little, abashed at my own boldness.

“The habit of asking questions elsewhere than in the class-room should not be encouraged in young ladies,” said Mrs. Whitehead, with a sort of prim severity.  “The other young ladies are gone home; you are about to follow their example.”