etter. It is really hard--I have not a
single correspondent."

Her deep disappointment, her vexation, and her feeble attempt to
conceal her emotions, were not lost upon the watchful Hilda. But the
latter showed no signs that she had noticed any thing.

"Oh, don't give it up!" she answered, with apparent eagerness. "I
dare say you can copy my hand accurately enough to avoid detection.
Here is a note I wrote yesterday. See if you can't imitate that, and
make your writing as like mine as possible."

So saying she drew a note from her pocket and handed it to Zillah.
The other took it eagerly, and began to try to imitate it, but a few
strokes showed her the utter impossibility of such an undertaking.
She threw down the pen, and leaning her head upon her hand, sat
looking upon the floor in deeper dejection than ever.

"I can't copy such horrid cramped letters," she said, pettishly; "why
should you write such a hand? Besides, I feel as if I were really
forging, or doing something dreadful. I suppose," she added, with
unconcealed bitterness of tone, "we shall have to go on as we began,
and you must be _Zillah Molyneux_ for some time longer."

Hilda laughed.

"Talk of forging!" she said. "What is forging if that is not? But
really, Zillah, darling, you seem to me to show more feeling about
this than I ever supposed you could possibly be capable of. Are you
aware that your tone is somewhat bitter, and that if I were sensitive
I might feel hurt? Do you mean by what you said to lay any blame to
me?"

She spoke so sadly and reproachfully that Zillah's heart smote her.
At once her disappointment and vexation vanished at the thought that
she had spoken unkindly to her friend.

"Hilda!" she cried, "you can not think that I am capable of such
ingratitude. You have most generously given me your services all this
time. You have been right, from the very first, and I have been
wrong. You have taken a world of trouble to obviate the difficulties
which my own obstinacy and temper have caused. If any trouble could
possibly arise, I only could be to blame. But, after all, none can
arise. I'm sure Captain Molyneux will very readily believe that I
disliked him too much when he first went away to dream of writing to
him. He certainly had every reason for thinking so."

"Shall you tell him that?" said Hilda, mildly, without referring to
Zillah's apologies.

"Certainly I shall," said Zillah, "if the opportunity ever arises.
The simple