he
was now, he would ever be. He might even make a fairly good husband. The
episode of his connection with herself would in no way interfere with
_his_ moral harmony. But he was not worthy of Katherine; no unbreakable
tie would make him more constant; and, though his faithlessness could
not touch her social position, he might crush her heart all the same.
Rachel was far too human, too passionate, not to shrink with unutterable
pain from the idea of this man's entrancing love being lavished on
another, yet her true, devoted affection for her benefactress remained
untouched. Katherine stood before everything. Rachel did not wish to
injure De Burgh--her heart had simply grown strong, and she would not
hesitate for a moment to save Katherine from trouble at any cost to him.

What then should she do?--continue to withhold the name of the man of
whom she had so often spoken, or let Katherine know the whole truth and
judge for herself? If she decided on the latter, it would break up her
friendship with Katherine, and De Burgh would attribute her action to
revenge. Should that deter her? No; so long as she was sure of herself,
what were opinions to her? The one thing in life to which she clung now
was Katherine's affection and esteem; for her she would sacrifice much,
but she would not flatter her into a fool's paradise of trust and wedded
love with De Burgh by concealing anything, neither would she counsel her
against the desperate experiment, should she be inclined to risk it. He
might be a very different man to a wife.

A certain amount of composure came to her with decision, though a second
death seemed to have laid its icy hand upon her heart; she rose and made
her way towards her own abode, determining to await a visit or some
communication from Katherine before she touched the poisoned tract which
lay between them.

Rachel had scarcely reached the Broad Walk when she was accosted by a
little girl, who ran towards her, calling loudly,

"Miss Trant, Miss Trant, don't you know me?"

She was a slight, willowy creature with black eyes, profuse dark hair,
and sallow complexion. Her dress was costly, though simple, and she was
followed at a more sober pace by a lady-like but foreign-looking girl,
apparently her governess.

"Well, Miss Liddell, are you taking a morning walk?" asked Rachel, as
the child took her hand.

"I am going to see papa. I am to have dinner with him. He has a bad
cold, and he sent for me."

"Then