eeling rather helpless, he changed his tactics, in an honest
endeavor to get at the real cause of her trouble.

"Naturally, my child," he said, "the sight of me brings back the
thought of your beloved mother. Such a sorrow--"

But again she interrupted him, this time by a silent gesture of the
hand. Then she said:

"It is not that. I've got used to that ache, and although my heart
would not be my heart without it, that is a silent and accepted
sorrow now. Oh, Mr. Spotswood," she said, impetuously, uncovering
her tear-stained face and looking at him with the helplessness
of a child, "you are a clergyman; you teach that God is love and
compassion and forgiveness; you have a kind heart! I know you have.
Perhaps if I could tell you all I have suffered, and how deeply I
have repented, you would be sorry for me, and not blame me as much
as I deserve to be blamed."

She was looking at him tentatively, as if to see how far she could
trust to the forbearance of which she felt she had now such need.

The rector's heart was deeply touched. This show of humility in the
high-spirited, self-willed girl that he remembered took him by
surprise.

"It could never be my impulse to blame you, my dear child, and the
less so when I see how bitterly you are blaming yourself for this
unknown thing. If you will tell me about it, I will do all that may
be in my power to help you. At all events, you may count upon my
loving sympathy."

"Ah, if I only could! It would be much to me now. But you are
ignorant of what you are promising. In a certain way it concerns
yourself, or at least a member of your family."

She saw a slightly hardened look come into his face, but it quickly
gave way to a gentler one.

"No matter what it is, if you have suffered and repented, the best
sympathy of my heart is yours."

"You will regard it as a confidence--a sacred confidence?" said
Bettina. "I could only tell you with that understanding. I know that
a clergyman is accustomed to keeping the secrets of his people, and I
could not say a word unless I were sure that this thing would rest
forever between you and me."

[Illustration: "'TRULY, MY CHILD, IT IS A WRETCHED STORY'"]

Wishing to soothe her in every possible way, the rector gave her
his promise to keep sacred what she might tell him; and thus
reassured, poor Bettina opened her heart. The relief of it was so
exquisite and the experience was so rare, that she told it all with
the abandonment of a