t your lodge. She has left. Do you happen to know
anything about her?"

"Nothing."

"Ah, that seems a pity. She is the sort of young creature to excite
one's sympathy. I called to see her a week ago, and she talked prettily
to me and looked sorrowful. Her name, she says, is Hart."

"Really? I--I confess I am not interested."

"But you ought to be, my dear friend, you ought to be. The girl seems
alone and defenceless. She is reserved with regard to her history, won't
make confidences, although I begged of her to confide in me, and assured
her that I, in my position, would receive what she chose to tell under
the seal of secrecy. Her eyes filled with tears, poor little soul, but
her lips were dumb."

"Oh, she has nothing to confide."

"Do you think so? I can't agree with you. Although my lot has been cast
in this remote out-of-the-world town, I have had my experiences, Mrs.
Bertram, and I never yet saw a face like Miss Hart's which did not
conceal a history."

"May I ask you, Mr. Ingram, if you ever before saw a face like Miss
Hart's?"

"Well, no, now that you put it to me, I don't think that I ever have. It
is beautiful."

"Ugly, you mean."

"No, no, Mrs. Bertram. With all due deference to your superior taste I
cannot agree with you. The features are classical, the eyes a little
wild and defiant, but capable of much expression. The hair of the
admired Rossetti type."

"Oh, spare me, Rector, spare me. I don't mean this low girl's outward
appearance. It is that which I feel is within which makes her altogether
ugly to me."

"Ah, poor child--women have intuitions, and you may be right. It would
of course not be judicious for your daughters to associate with Miss
Hart. But you, Mrs. Bertram, you, as a mother, might get at this poor
child's past, and counsel her as to her future."

"She has gone away, has she not?" asked Mrs. Bertram.

"I regret to say she has, but she may return. She promised me faithfully
to come to church on Sunday, and I called at the lodge on my way up to
leave her a little basket of fruit and flowers, and to remind her of her
promise. Mrs. Tester said she had left her, but might return again. I
hope so, and that I may be the means of helping her, for the poor
child's face disturbs me."

"I trust your wish may never be realized," murmured Mrs. Bertram, under
her breath. Aloud she said cheerfully, "I must show you my bed of
pansies, Rector. They are really quite superb."

CHAP