of a most sorrowful enigma. What
were they to do? How were they to live without separation, and without
taking a solitary plunge into an unknown and most terrifying world?

Nan's frame of mind was slightly monotonous. What would Dick say, and
how would this affect certain vague hopes she had lately cherished?
Then she thought of Mr. Mayne, and shivered, and a sense of coldness
and remote fear stole over her.

One could hardly blame her for this sweet dual selfishness, that was
not selfishness. She was thinking less of herself than of a certain
vigorous young life that was becoming strongly entwined with hers. It
was all very well to say that Dick was Dick; but what could the most
obstinate will of even that most obstinate young man avail against
such a miserable combination of adverse influences,--"when the stars
in their courses fought against Sisera"? And at this juncture of her
thoughts she could feel Phillis's hand folding softly over hers with a
most sisterly pressure of full understanding and sympathy. Phillis had
no Dick to stand sentinel over her private thoughts; she was free to
be alert and vigilant for others. Nevertheless, her forehead was
puckered up with hard thinking, and her silence was so very expressive
that Dulce sat and looked at her with grave unsmiling eyes, the
innocent child-look in them growing very pathetic at the
speechlessness that had overtaken them. As for Mrs. Challoner, she
still moaned feebly from time to time, as she stretched her numb hands
towards the comforting warmth. They were fine delicate hands, with the
polished look of old ivory, and there were diamond rings on them that
twinkled and shone as she moved them in her restlessness.

"They shall all go; I will keep nothing," she said, regarding them
plaintively; for they were heirlooms, and highly valued as relics of a
wealthy past. "It is not this sort of thing that I mind. I would live
on a crust thankfully, if I could only keep my children with me." And
she looked round at the blooming faces of her girls with eyes brimming
over with maternal fondness.

Poor Dulce's lips quivered, and she made a horrified gesture.

"Oh, mamsie, don't talk so. I never could bear crusts, unless they
were well buttered. I like everything to be nice, and to have plenty
of it,--plenty of sunshine, and fun, and holiday-making, and friends;
and--and now you are talking as though we must starve, and never have
anything to wear, and go nowhere and be