of course. For the rest--let no
one disturb themselves till they must. And if I were you, Marcella, I
would hardly discuss the family affairs any more--with Mr. Raeburn or
anybody else."

And again her keen glance disconcerted the tall handsome girl, whose
power over the world about her had never extended to her mother.
Marcella flushed and played with the fire.

"You see, mamma," she said after a moment, still looking at the logs and
the shower of sparks they made as she moved them about, "you never let
me discuss them with you."

"Heaven forbid!" said Mrs. Boyce, quickly; then, after a pause: "You
will find your own line in a little while, Marcella, and you will see,
if you so choose it, that there will be nothing unsurmountable in your
way. One piece of advice let me give you. Don't be too _grateful_ to
Miss Raeburn, or anybody else! You take great interest in your Boyce
belongings, I perceive. You may remember too, perhaps, that there is
other blood in you--and that no Merritt has ever submitted quietly to
either patronage or pity."

Marcella started. Her mother had never named her own kindred to her
before that she could remember. She had known for many years that there
was a breach between the Merritts and themselves. The newspapers had
told her something at intervals of her Merritt relations, for they were
fashionable and important folk, but no one of them had crossed the
Boyces' threshold since the old London days, wherein Marcella could
still dimly remember the tall forms of certain Merritt uncles, and even
a stately lady in a white cap whom she knew to have been her mother's
mother. The stately lady had died while she was still a child at her
first school; she could recollect her own mourning frock; but that was
almost the last personal remembrance she had, connected with the
Merritts.

And now this note of intense personal and family pride, under which Mrs.
Boyce's voice had for the first time quivered a little! Marcella had
never heard it before, and it thrilled her. She sat on by the fire,
drinking her tea and every now and then watching her companion with a
new and painful curiosity. The tacit assumption of many years with her
had been that her mother was a dry limited person, clever and determined
in small ways, that affected her own family, but on the whole
characterless as compared with other people of strong feelings and
responsive susceptibilities. But her own character had been rapidly
maturin