’Are you going to tell me this morning where you have been all this time?’

‘No,’ she answered calmly, ‘I’m not.’

This was unpromising, but Walter tried not to notice her defiant manner and tone.

’Very well; I won’t ask you, since you don’t want to tell.  You haven’t been prospering, anyhow.  Now, any one can see that; but we’ll let bygones be bygones.  I’m in a good way of doing now, Liz, and if you like to come along to Colquhoun Street and try your hand at housekeeping, I’m ready.’

Liz was profoundly amazed, but not a change passed over her face.

‘Ye’re no’ feared,’ was her only comment, delivered at last in a perfectly passionless voice.

‘Feared!  What for?’ he asked, trying to speak pleasantly.  ’You’re my sister, and I need a housekeeper.  I’m thinking of leaving Colquhoun Street, and taking a wee house somewhere in the suburbs.  We can talk it over when you come.’

Then Liz sat up and fixed her large, indescribable eyes full on her brother’s face.

‘An’ will ye tak’ me withoot askin’ a single question, Wat?’

‘I can’t do anything else,’ he answered good-humouredly.

‘But I’ve lost my character,’ she said then, in a perfectly matter-of-fact voice.

Although he was in a manner prepared for it, this calm announcement made him wince.

‘You can redeem it again,’ he said in a slightly unsteady voice.  ’I don’t want to be too hard on you, Liz.  You never had a chance.’

Liz leaned back in her chair again and closed her eyes.  She was, to outward appearance, indifferent and calm, but her breast once or twice tumultuously heaved, and her brows were knit, as if she suffered either physical or mental pain.

’You’ll come, won’t you, Liz, either to-day or to-morrow?  You know the place,’ he said rather anxiously.

‘No,’ she answered quietly; ‘I’m no’ comin’.’

’Why?  I’m sure I will never cast up anything.  I’m in solemn earnest, Liz.  I’ll do the best I can for you, and nobody shall cast a stone at you when I am by.  I’ve lived to myself too long.  Come and help me to be less selfish.’

The girl’s breast again tumultuously heaved, and one deep, bursting sob forced itself from her lips; but all her answer was, to shake her head wearily, and answer,—­

‘No.’

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXXIV.

WHAT WILL SHE DO?

Walter looked at her perplexedly, not knowing what to say.

‘Why will you not come?’ he asked at length quite gently.

‘I’ve disgraced ye enough,’ she answered, a trifle sharply.  ’Ye dinna ken what ye are daein’, my man, askin’ me to come an’ bide wi’ you.  I’ve mair respect for ye than ye hae for yersel’.  I’m much obleeged, a’ the same, but I’m no’ comin’.’

He perceived that the highest motive prompted her, and it convinced him as nothing else could have done that, if she had erred, she had also repented sincerely.