u what I couldn't say to a stranger. I am
right glad you have come here, Mr. Lefrank; and for a reason, sir,
which you don't suspect."

"Thank you for the compliment you pay me, Miss Colebrook, whatever the
reason may be."

She took no notice of my reply; she steadily pursued her own train of
thought.

"I guess you may do some good, sir, in this wretched house," the girl
went on, with her eyes still earnestly fixed on my face. "There is no
love, no trust, no peace, at Morwick Farm. They want somebody here,
except Ambrose. Don't think ill of Ambrose; he is only thoughtless. I
say, the rest of them want somebody here to make them ashamed of their
hard hearts, and their horrid, false, envious ways. You are a
gentleman; you know more than they know; they can't help themselves;
they must look up to _you_. Try, Mr. Lefrank, when you have the
opportunity--pray try, sir, to make peace among them. You heard what
went on at supper-time; and you were disgusted with it. Oh yes, you
were! I saw you frown to yourself; and I know what _that_ means in you
Englishmen."

There was no choice but to speak one's mind plainly to Naomi. I
acknowledged the impression which had been produced on me at
supper-time just as plainly as I have acknowledged it in these pages.
Naomi nodded her head in undisguised approval of my candor.

"That will do, that's speaking out," she said. "But--oh my! you put it
a deal too mildly, sir, when you say the men don't seem to be on
friendly terms together here. They hate each other. That's the word,
Mr. Lefrank--hate; bitter, bitter, bitter hate!" She clinched her
little fists; she shook them vehemently, by way of adding emphasis to
her last words; and then she suddenly remembered Ambrose. "Except
Ambrose," she added, opening her hand again, and laying it very
earnestly on my arm. "Don't go and misjudge Ambrose, sir. There is no
harm in poor Ambrose."

The girl's innocent frankness was really irresistible.

"Should I be altogether wrong," I asked, "if I guessed that you were a
little partial to Ambrose?"

An Englishwoman would have felt, or would at least have assumed, some
little hesitation at replying to my question. Naomi did not hesitate
for an instant.

"You are quite right, sir," she said with the most perfect composure.
"If things go well, I mean to marry Ambrose."

"If things go well," I repeated. "What does that mean? Money?"

She shook her head.

"It means a fear that I have in my own mi