pain lay strong resolution.

Ella and Cecil must

know the truth. She could no longer endure to meet them, day after day, without confessing the burden which lay upon her. If they could not forgive her, could not thenceforward receive her as a sister-better even that, than to have love and kindness, to which she felt she had no right, daily showered upon her.

CHAPTER XXVI.

FREED.

THE visit to Ella put an end to Dessie's powers of walking for a week to come, and she had much more of the sofa than she liked during several days. Ella came more than once to see her, but the calls could not be returned. Harry took up his sister's case, prescribing and enforcing nonexertion.

Dessie scarcely knew whether she regretted or rejoiced in this renewed delay. She was very unhappy, and very anxious to have her confession over, yet perhaps it was only natural that she should experience a certain sense of relief at being debarred from the next step.

Three weeks passed before she was allowed to do more than pace once or twice up and down the street. But one morning Harry at length said: "I think you may safely venture on rather a longer stroll to-day."

No further remarks were made, and Dessie formed her own private resolve. Breakfast over, she dressed herself and left the house, unperceived

save by the parlour-maid, whom she simply informed that she was "going for a walk.”

Mrs. Willoughby-Dumbarton's house lay about as far in one direction as Cecil's lay in another. Dessie found her way thither, and knocked.

"I want to see Anne Bowen," she said. "I believe she is housemaid here."

"Anne left two months ago, Miss," was the answer. "She's got a place somewhere not far off."

Dessie experienced again a half-dismayed halfrelieved sense. Her first impulse was to count herself foiled, and walk away. Her next impulse was to hesitate.

"I suppose you cannot tell me where Anne is gcne?" she said.

"I don't know, Miss, but I think Cook knows. I'll ask her. Will you step in for a minute?"

"No, thank you. I'll wait here."

Dessie sincerely hoped that Mrs. WilloughbyDumbarton might not cross the hall and perceive her. She did not wish for inquiries as to the nature of her errand. The girl came back.

"It's at a Miss Foster's, No. 2 Albemarle Row," she said. "It isn't far from here, Miss. Cook

says it's a row of little houses near George Square."

Dessie repeated the name and address. "Thank you," she said, and she turned away.

Should she go on or not? Would her ankle hold out? Harry certainly had not intended her to walk so far? But on the other hand, she felt

that if Harry knew her reasons he would probably say she was right to have no further delays. "If I put off I may just get into a mood when I shall feel as if I couldn't tell," Dessie thought. "At the worst, I can find a cab and drive back."

So she trudged on steadily, and in due time found herself before a little house, with spotless white steps. She rang the bell, and a lady, in a big housekeeper's apron, opened the door.

"If you please, I think Anne Bowen is servant here," said Dessie.

"Anne

"Yes, she is," the lady answered in a brisk tone, scanning Dessie from head to foot. Bowen is my new servant."

"I am afraid this isn't a very convenient time of day, but I should like very much to have a few words with her," said Dessie. "Only just a few words; I won't keep her long."

"Yes, it is a very inconvenient time," said the lady decisively; "but of course that does not matter if you come on business. One must put up with inconvenience sometimes, for the sake of other people."

"I won't keep her long," repeated Dessie. "She was nurse to my brother's little boy some time ago."

"You are not going to say anything unsettling, I hope," said the lady. "She isn't up to my notions of a good servant, certainly, but I am getting her into my ways, and I don't wish to have her unsettled."

"O no, indeed," said Dessie eagerly.

"I am so

glad she has found a nice place. It is only a little private matter concerning herself and me."

"Ah-a little present that you wish to make her, perhaps." The remark did not come in the form of a question, and Dessie did not count it necessary to reply. "Walk in, my dear. I will send Anne to you, and don't hurry yourself. If she loses a quarter of an hour, she can make it up afterwards by putting her shoulder to the wheel."

The lady showed Dessie into a tidy little drawing-room, and vanished. Anne presently appeared, twisting her hands together, and looking extremely doubtful whether or no to be pleased at the sight of her visitor.

"Shut the door please, Anne," said Dessie. "How do you do? It is a long while since I have seen you. Miss Foster says she can spare you for a few minutes, and I want a little talk with you. Sit down. It won't take us long, but you may as well sit as stand."

Anne obeyed, with an air of heightened uneasi

ness.

"Have you heard anything lately, Anne, of Mrs. Cecil Fitzroy's little boy?" asked Dessie, her voice unconsciously falling into a sorrowful key.

"I used to hear when I was at Mrs. Dumbarton's, Miss Dessie. I haven't since," said Anne unwillingly.

"You knew, then, of course, about the state he is in-about his never really recovering from that illness. But he is much worse now. The doctor