irl, resting her pale cheek in the palm of a
thin, tiny hand, "you once said something to me about--about some one
who had been wronged by--" Something sadder than tears choked her
utterance.

As Olive turned her grave clear eyes away from the window, and fixed
them in expectation upon her; Madeline's own eyes fell. She sat before
her benefactress with downcast lids, and the hateful name unuttered.

"I know," said Olive, after a brief silence; "I referred to a girl now
lying in the hospital. She is very young, and has been cruelly wronged
by him. She is poor, as you may judge, and earned her living in the
ballet at the theater. She was thrown from a carriage which had been
furnished her by _him_, to carry her home from some rendezvous--of
course the driver took care of himself and his horses. The poor girl
was picked up and carried to the hospital. She was without friends and
almost penniless. She sent to him--for him; he returned no answer. She
begged for help, for enough to enable her to obtain what was needed in
her illness. Message after message was sent, and finally a reply came,
brought by a messenger who had been bidden to insist upon receiving an
answer. The servant said that his master had directed him to say to
any messenger who called, that he was out of town."

"The wretch! He deserves death!"

Madeline's eyes blazed, and she lifted her head with some of her olden
energy.

"Softly, my dear: 'Thou shalt do no murder.'"

"It is not murder to kill a human tiger!"

Olive made no answer.

"Is she still very ill, this girl?" questioned Madeline.

"She can not recover."

"Shall I see her?"

"If you wish to; do you?"

"Yes."

Another long pause; then Madeline glanced up at her friend, and said
listlessly: "What do you intend to do with me?"

"Do with you?" smiling at her. "Make you well again, and then try and
coax you to be my other sister. Don't you think I need one?"

No answer.

"Life has much in store for you yet, Madeline."

"Yes;" bitterly again.

"You are so young."

"And so old."

"Madeline, you are too young for somber thoughts and repining."

"I shall not repine."

"Good! You will try to forget?"

"Impossible!"

"No; not impossible."

"I do not wish to, then."

"And why?"

"Wait and see."

"Madeline, you will do nothing rash? You will trust me, and confide in
me?"

The girl raised her eyes slowly, in surprise. "I have not so many
friends that I can afford to lose