ns in lonely Indian stations, upon the captains of English ships,
upon the pioneers of Canadian fields and railways; upon England, in
fact, as the arbiter of oriental faiths--the wrestler with the
desert--the mother and maker of new states. A passion for the work of
her race beyond these narrow seas--a passion of sympathy, which was also
a passion of antagonism, since every phase of that work, according to
Miss Mallory, had been dogged by the hate and calumny of base
minds--expressed itself through her charming mouth, with a quite
astonishing fluency. Mrs. Colwood's mind moved uneasily. She had
expected an orphan girl, ignorant of the world, whom she might mother,
and perhaps mould. She found a young Egeria, talking politics with
raised color and a throbbing voice, as other girls might talk of lovers
or chiffons. Egeria's companion secretly and with some alarm reviewed
her own equipment in these directions. Miss Mallory discoursed of India.
Mrs. Colwood had lived in it. But her husband had entered the Indian
Civil Service, simply in order that he might have money enough to marry
her. And during their short time together, they had probably been more
keenly alive to the depreciation of the rupee than to ideas of
England's imperial mission. But Herbert had done his duty, of course he
had. Once or twice as Miss Mallory talked the little widow's eyes filled
with tears again unseen. The Indian names Diana threw so proudly into
air were, for her companion, symbols of heart-break and death. But she
played her part; and her comments and interjections were all that was
necessary to keep the talk flowing.

In the midst of it voices were suddenly heard outside. Diana started.

"Carols!" she said, with flushing cheeks. "The first time I have heard
them in England itself!"

She flew to the hall, and threw the door open. A handful of children
appeared shouting "Good King Wenceslas" in a hideous variety of keys.
Miss Mallory heard them with enthusiasm; then turned to the butler
behind her.

"Give them a shilling, please, Brown."

A quick change passed over the countenance of the man addressed.

"Lady Emily, ma'am, never gave more than three-pence."

This stately person had formerly served the Vavasours, and was much
inclined to let his present mistress know it.

Diana looked disappointed, but submissive.

"Oh, very well, Brown--I don't want to alter any of the old ways. But I
hear the choir will come up to-night. Now they mus