hy you weep."

It appeared that the professor had been used to teach the little
delicate son of the purse-proud lady, and that he had taken great
interest in the little fellow both on account of his backwardness and
frail health.

"After he died," said Margot, "his mother seemed grateful for these
small kindnesses, and called upon us. Sometimes she sent the carriage
for _maman_ to spend a few hours at Bellevue, but always when the
weather was unpleasant. Then, you see, I used to go to the Seawoods for
my mother, take bouquets of violets, Easter eggs, and other small
complimentary tokens of regard, and madame would exclaim, 'How sweet!'
or 'How lovely!' but always in a patronising manner. I only told the
'How sweet!' and 'How beautiful!' to mother, because _she_ used to look
wistfully at me, and say how glad she was that I had some English
friends.

"Once, I remember, I was passing Bellevue at night with papa; it was a
cold, January evening, with snow falling, and we shivered a little.
They were giving a grand party, the house was lit up like an enchanted
palace, and papa (who is often as sweetly simple as Don Quixote) said:

"'I cannot understand why your friends have overlooked you, _petite_,
you could have worn the little grey frock with blue trimmings, eh?'

"They never understood how hollow a friendship it was. They could not
realise that others could display a meanness of which they themselves
were incapable, and I suppose it was only my own proud heart, less free
from the vanity of human weakness than theirs, which made me detect and
resent it; and so I had to endure the misery of this proud patronage and
let my parents think I was enjoying the friendship of love. To be proud
and dependent, Gloria, is to be poor indeed. But I must conquer my
pride, if only that I may conquer my poverty, and as Miss Melford told
us at scripture this morning, he that conquers his own proud heart is
greater than he that taketh a city."

Then she linked her arm in mine, and said:

"The Good God has allowed me to become poor, but he has given me _one_
talent, I can paint, and if only for papa's sake I must overcome evil
with good and try to win a victory over myself."

II.

THE PALM-BEARERS.

Miss Melford, and a chosen party of the senior girls (of whom I was
one), stood in our beautiful Art Gallery attentively studying a water
colour on the line. The picture was numbered 379 in the catalogue, was
called "Palm-Bearers,