“Your resume of the facts makes Mr. Payne and me seem rather foolish,” said Katherine.  “Yet I am convinced she is worth helping, and that no common methods will do to restore to her any relish for life.  She interests me.  I may be throwing away my time and money, but I will risk it.”

“It is hard to say, of course, whether she is a deserving object or not,” added Bertie, thoughtfully; “and I have been taken in more than once.”

“More than once?” echoed his sister in a peculiar tone.

“Still, I feel with Miss Liddell that this girl’s, Rachel Trant’s, is not a common case,” continued Bertie.

“Her very name is suggestive of grief,” said Katherine, “and she, too, refuses to be comforted.  I am sure she will tell me her story later.  Her landlady says she never receives or sends a letter, and does not seem to have a creature belonging to her.  Such desolation is appalling.”

“And shows there is something radically wrong,” added Miss Payne.

“I acknowledge that it has a dubious appearance,” said Bertie, and turned the conversation.

Katherine was completely taken out of herself by the interest and curiosity excited by her meeting with Rachel Trant.  She visited her daily, and saw that she was slowly reviving.  She took a wonderful interest in the dress which Katherine had given her to make, and, moreover, succeeded in fitting her admirably.  She was evidently weak and unequal to exertion, yet she worked with surprising diligence.  Her manner was very grave and collected—­respectful, yet always ready to respond to Katherine’s effort to draw her out.

The subject on which she spoke most readily was the books Katherine lent her.  Her taste was decidedly intelligent and rather solid.  To the surprise of her young benefactress, she expressed a distaste for novels—­stories, as she called them.  “I used to care for nothing else,” she said; “but they pain me now.”  She expressed herself like an educated, even refined, woman; and though she said very little about gratitude, it showed in every glance, in the very tone of her voice, and in her ready obedience to whatever wish Katherine expressed.  The greatest sacrifice was evidently compliance with her new friend’s suggestion that she should take exercise and breathe fresh air.

Miss Payne, after critically examining Katherine’s new garment, declared it really well made, inquired the cost, and finally decided that she would have an every-day dress for herself, and that “Miss Trant” should make it up.  Then Katherine presented the elegant young woman who waited on her with a gown, promising to pay for the making if she employed her protegee.

“Miss Trant” could not conceal her reluctance to come so far from the wilds of Camden Town; but she came, closely muffled in a thick gauze veil, doubtless to guard against cold in the chill March evening.  Katherine was immensely pleased to find that both gowns gave satisfaction, though the “elegant young woman’s” praise was cautious and qualified.