ty, fair curls all tossed over a deathly white face.

She was fond of clambering about by herself, and had slipped from the
roof of a little outhouse, and fallen on her head.

She was put to bed in the sick ward, and the doctor sent for. For
three days and three nights Mother Agnes and Kate watched beside her;
on the fourth day the doctor told them that he could do no more.
Frances wandered much through those last days, talking confusedly of
green fields, and birds singing, and of flowers. Sometimes she would
sing little snatches of the hymns they learnt in school; and she often
spoke--as little dying children do speak of Christ. Mother Agnes'
tenderness to poor Kate almost exceeded her tenderness to the dying
child, but Kate made no response to it. She answered in monosyllables,
and hung down her head with its mass of bushy hair, and dark eyes
gleaming strangely under her overhanging brow.

All was over very soon, and Kate was left with a memory, and with a
tiny little grave to tend.

Mother Agnes felt for her out of the depths of a womanly heart, but
Kate either could not, or would not speak of her sorrow to any living
being.

She gave up all her odd ways, and became quiet, and very gentle; and as
months passed on Mother Agnes began to think that Kate had really
improved in character. She showed signs of talent in so many
directions that the Mother thought of training her for a
schoolmistress, and took real delight in planning for the child's
future, except when now and then some curious little trait of character
would raise an uncomfortable feeling which could not be dispelled.

CHAPTER II.

THE FLIGHT.

A confirmation was to be held during the spring in the neighbouring
village; and the clergyman who prepared the Orphanage children looked
upon Kate as a most promising candidate; she was gentle, and attentive,
and wrote her papers with so much care.

The Confirmation day dawned as sweetly and as brightly as a
Confirmation day should do. The birds were singing their hearts out in
the Orphanage garden; primroses and wallflowers were blooming in every
corner; the apple-trees were in festive array, and little pink and
white petals floated on the breeze, and came in at the open windows.

Then a troop of little girls in grey dresses with white caps assembled,
prayer-book in hand, at the door, waiting for Mother Agnes.

What could keep Mother Agnes so long? The bells have been ringing for
nearly h