tly to her feet, her eyes
flashing, her cheeks burning with shame and anger. "How dare you talk to
me so? You have no right!"

"Haven't I no right?" almost shrieked Mrs. Forest. "I stand none of your
impudence!" And with these words her passion so took possession of her
that she leaned forward and with her open hand struck her daughter a
stinging blow on one of her cheeks. "You are fond of crying," she said,
"so take something to cry for--for once."

But Nancy did not cry: she stood still, staring in a bewildered way at
the burning log upon the hearth, the flame from which danced upon her
reddened cheek.

Had Fred remained a little longer in the orchard, trouble might have
been prevented; for he would have seen Nancy, whom Mrs. Forest sent to
bring in the new linen which was bleaching. Mrs. Forest gave her this to
do, because she could not bear to see her stand so silent and dazed. She
was, indeed, heartily ashamed of the act she had committed the moment it
was over, but knew what was done couldn't be undone. She had never
struck her daughter before, and resolved never to do so again; but it
did not occur to her to tell Nancy so. Had she done so, the warm-hearted
child would have responded at once to such an advance; but she only
said: "Well, well; have done staring in the fire, Nan; and run and fetch
the linen from the orchard."

Nancy obeyed mechanically, little knowing who had just left the spot,
and feeling in her young heart all the bitterness of utter desolation.

III.

A night of sorrow is said to give place to a morning of joy. This would
be a comforting thought were it not that the morning must likewise give
place in its turn to another night.

The morning which followed the night of Nancy Forest's bitter
humiliation was certainly a bright one--at least, by contrast; and,
unfortunately, much so-called happiness is only such. Were the world not
a dark and naughty one, a good deed might not shine so brightly. In the
first place, Nancy was young and healthy; so the wintry sun, though it
shone on a frozen ground, cheered her. Then Mrs. Forest was unusually
amiable at breakfast, and paid some attention to her daughter, which she
generally found herself too busy to do. Her father made much of her, as
was his habit. He had apparently heard nothing of last night's episode.

The walk across the hills to Shenton was exhilarating, and at the end of
it a pleasant surprise awaited Nancy. She found Miss Michin alr