“I could at least reply to it so far, that the writer should not think my father had neglected it.  I did not know who it was from till I came to the end.”

Euphra turned her back on her, with the words: 

“You may go.”

Margaret walked out of the room with an unconscious stately gentleness.

“Come back,” cried Euphra.

Margaret obeyed.

“Of course you will tell all your fellow-servants the contents of this foolish letter.”

Margaret’s face flushed, and her eye flashed, at the first words of this speech; but the last words made her forget the first, and to them only she replied.  Clasping. her hands, she said: 

“Dear Miss Cameron, do not call it foolish.  For God’s sake, do not call it foolish.”

“What is it to you?  Do you think I am going to make a confidante of you?”

Margaret again left the room.  Notwithstanding that she had made no answer to her insult, Euphra felt satisfied that her letter was safe from profanation.

No sooner was Margaret out of sight, than, with the reaction common to violent tempers, which in this case resulted the sooner, from the exhaustion produced in a worn frame by the violence of the outburst, Euphra sat down, in a hopeless, unresting way, upon the chair from which she had just risen, and began weeping more bitterly than before.  She was not only exhausted, but ashamed; and to these feelings was added a far greater sense of disappointment than she could have believed possible, at the frustration of the hope of help from David Elginbrod.  True, this hope had been small; but where there is only one hope, its death is equally bitter, whether it be a great or a little hope.  And there is often no power of reaction, in a mind which has been gradually reduced to one little faint hope, when that hope goes out in darkness.  There is a recoil which is very helpful, from the blow that kills a great hope.

All this time Harry had been looking on, in a kind of paralysed condition, pale with perplexity and distress.  He now came up to Euphra, and, trying to pull her hand gently from her face, said: 

“What is it all about, Euphra, dear?”

“Oh!  I have been very naughty, Harry.”

“But what is it all about?  May I read the letter?”

“If you like,” answered Euphra, listlessly.

Harry read the letter with quivering features.  Then, laying it down on the table with a reverential slowness, went to Euphra, put his arms round her and kissed her.

“Dear, dear Euphra, I did not know you were so unhappy.  I will find God for you.  But first I will —­ what shall I do to the bad man?  Who is it?  I will —­”

Harry finished the sentence by setting his teeth hard.

“Oh! you can’t do anything for me, Harry, dear.  Only mind you don’t say anything about it to any one.  Put the letter in the fire there for me.”