ionately. "You
know that you would rather see me poor--see me the nursery-maid, the
Cinderella, that you are so fond of calling me!"

"Well," said Percival, with a short laugh, "for my own sake, perhaps, I
would."

"And so would I," said Elizabeth.

"But you know, Lizzie, you will get over that feeling in time. You will
find pleasure in your riches and your beauty; you will learn what
enjoyment means--which you have had small chance of finding out,
hitherto, in this comfortable household!" He laughed rather bitterly.
"You are in the chrysalis state at present; you don't know what it is to
be a butterfly. You will like that better--in time."

"I will never be a butterfly--God helping me!" said Elizabeth. She spoke
solemnly, with a noble light in her whole face which made it more than
beautiful. Percival turned away his eyes from it; he did not dare to
look. "If I have had wealth given me," said the girl, "I will use it for
worthy ends. Others shall benefit by it as well as myself."

"Don't squander it, Lizzie," said Percival, with a cynical smile,
designed to cover the exceeding sadness and soreness of his heart. "Your
philanthropist is not often the wisest person in the world."

"No, but I will try to use it wisely," she said, with a touch of
meekness in her voice which made him feel madly inclined to fall down
and kiss the very hem of her garment--or rather the lowest flounce of
her shabby, dark-blue, serge gown--"and my friends will see that I do
not spend it foolishly. You do not think it would be foolish to use it
for the good of others, do you, Percival? I suppose I shall be thought
very eccentric if I do not take a large house in London, or go much into
society; but, indeed, I should not be happy in spending money in those
ways----"

"Why, what on earth do you mean to do?" said Percival, sharply. "I see
that you have some plan in your head; I should just like to know what it
is."

She was standing beside him on the hearth-rug, and she looked up at his
face and down again before she answered.

"Yes," she said, seriously, "I have a plan."

"And you mean that I have no right to inquire what it is? You are
perfectly correct; I have no right, and I beg your pardon for the
liberty that I have taken. I think that I had better go."

His manner was so restless, his voice so uneven and so angry, that
Elizabeth lifted her eyes and studied his face a little before she
replied.

"Percival," she said at last, "w