I'll go upstairs and sit with her."

Miss Nelson and Marjorie walked quickly home together. When they
reached the house, the little girl made one request of her governess.

"I want to write to Ermie. May I do it to-night?"

"No, my love, I must forbid that. You are much too tired."

"But it _is_ so important--far more important than I can tell you, and
I promised Susy."

"Maggie, do you want Ermengarde to come home?"

"Oh, yes; she must come home."

"Then you shall send her a telegram in the morning."

"But that seems cruel. My letter will be far, far better. I could
explain things a little in a letter."

Miss Nelson considered for a moment.

"I have great trust in you, Maggie," she said. "I won't question you,
for I daresay you have heard something from Susan Collins in
confidence. I am sure you would not wish to recall Ermengarde unless
there was great need."

"There is; oh, really, there is."

"Then you shall go to bed now, and I will send you to Glendower with
Hudson by the first train in the morning."

CHAPTER XXII.

QUITE IN A NEW CHARACTER.

The day was lovely, and Ermengarde woke once more in the best of
spirits. Notwithstanding her unhappy day, she had enjoyed herself much
the night before. She had worn Lilias's simple white dress, and
Marjorie's Maltese cross with its narrow gold chain had given to her
appearance just that finish which best suited her youth.

Ermengarde had looked remarkably pretty, and many people had noticed
the fact, and one or two of Mr. Wilton's gentlemen friends had
congratulated him in quite audible tones on having such a charming and
lovely little daughter. Ermengarde had herself heard these words, and
had seen a glow, half of sadness half of pleasure, light up her
father's dark eyes, and her own heart had swelled within her. She
began to know the difference between real praise and flattery. She
thought how fascinating it would all be when she was really grown up,
and dull lessons were over, and Miss Nelson was no longer of the
slightest consequence, when she could dress as she pleased, and do as
she liked.

In the agreeable feelings which these thoughts gave her, she forgot
about Basil's displeasure. She ceased to remember that the dearest
friendship of her life was in danger of being broken, was so
jeopardized that it was scarcely likely that the severed threads could
ever be reunited with their old strength. Ermengarde was away from all
unpleasant thi