re that you know."

"But I want you to hear me for one moment first. I beg your pardon,
Miss Prettyman; I do indeed, but I want to say this before you go on.
I must go home, and I know I ought. We are all disgraced, and I won't
stop here to disgrace the school. I know papa has done nothing wrong;
but nevertheless we are disgraced. The police are to bring him in
here on Thursday, and everybody in Silverbridge will know it. It
cannot be right that I should be here teaching in the school, while
it is all going on;--and I won't. And, Miss Prettyman, I couldn't do
it,--indeed I couldn't. I can't bring myself to think of anything
I am doing. Indeed I can't; and then, Miss Prettyman, there are
other reasons." By the time that she had proceeded thus far, Grace
Crawley's words were nearly choked by her tears.

"And what are the other reasons, Grace?"

"I don't know," said Grace, struggling to speak through her tears.

"But I know," said Miss Prettyman. "I know them all. I know all your
reasons, and I tell you that in my opinion you ought to remain where
you are, and not go away. The very reasons which to you are reasons
for your going, to me are reasons for your remaining here."

"I can't remain. I am determined to go. I don't mind you and Miss
Anne, but I can't bear to have the girls looking at me,--and the
servants."

Then Miss Prettyman paused awhile, thinking what words of wisdom
would be most appropriate in the present conjuncture. But words of
wisdom did not seem to come easily to her, having for the moment been
banished by tenderness of heart. "Come here, my love," she said at
last. "Come here, Grace." Slowly Grace got up from her seat and came
round, and stood by Miss Prettyman's elbow. Miss Prettyman pushed
her chair a little back, and pushed herself a little forward, and
stretching out one hand, placed her arm round Grace's waist, and
with the other took hold of Grace's hand, and thus drew her down and
kissed the girl's forehead and lips. And then Grace found herself
kneeling at her friend's feet. "Grace," she said, "do you not know
that I love you? Do you not know that I love you dearly?" In answer
to this Grace kissed the withered hand she held in hers, while the
warm tears trickled upon Miss Prettyman's knuckles. "I love you as
though you were my own," exclaimed the schoolmistress; "and will you
not trust me, that I know what is best for you?"

[Illustration: "I love you as though you were my own,"
said