ore he left the house. As he was going out,
Mollie, in her character of porteress, opened the hall door for
him, and, having opened it, stood there with Tod's new garment
half concealed, a pair of timid eyes uplifted to his face, a small,
trembling, feverish hand held out.

"Mr. Gowan," she said, in a low, fluttering voice. "Oh, if you please--"

He took the little hot hand, feeling some tender remorse for not having
tried to draw her out more and help her out of her painful shyness and
restraint.

"What is it, Mollie?" he asked.

"I want--I want," fluttering all over,--"I want to thank you better than
I did that--that dreadful night. I was so frightened I could scarcely
understand. I understand more--now--and I want to tell you how grateful
I am--and how grateful I shall be until I die--and I want to ask you to
try not to think I was very wicked. I did not mean to be wicked--I was
only vain and silly, and I thought it would be such a grand thing to--to
have plenty of new dresses," hanging her sweet, humble face, "and to
wear diamonds, and be Lady Chandos, if--if Mr. Chandos came into the
title. Of course that was wicked, but it was n't--I was n't as bad as I
seemed. I was so vain that--that I was quite sure he loved me, and would
be very glad if I married him. He always said he would." And the tears
rolled fast down her cheeks.

"Poor Mollie!" said Gowan, patting the trembling hand as if it had been
a baby's. "Poor child!"

"But," Mollie struggled on, penitently, "I shall never be so foolish
again. And I am going to try to be good--like Aimee. I am learning to
mend things; and I am beginning to make things for Tod. This," holding
up her work as proof, "is a dress for him. It is n't very well done,"
with innocent dubiousness; "but Aimee says I am improving. And so, if
you please, would you be so kind as not to think quite so badly of me?"

It was all so humble and pretty and remorseful that he was quite
touched by it. That old temptation to kiss and console her made it
quite dangerous for him to linger. She was such a lovable sight with her
tear-wet cheeks, and that dubious but faithfully worked-at garment of
Tod's in her hand.

"Mollie," he said, "will you believe what I say to you?"

"Oh, yes!" eagerly.

"Then I say to you that I never believed you wicked for an instant,--not
for one instant; and now I believe it less than ever; on the contrary,
I believe you are a good, honest little creature. Let us forg