o idea of leaving
you alone, or of leaving you in this house either. You are to stay
with--"

"Not with Aunt Emily!" cried the girl, springing to her feet with
flashing eyes. "Mamma, I would rather beg in the streets than stay with
Aunt Emily. She is a detestable, ill-natured, selfish woman."

"Hildegarde," said Mrs. Graham gravely, "be silent!" There was a moment
of absolute stillness, broken only by the ticking of the little crystal
clock on the mantelpiece, and then Mrs. Graham continued: "I must ask
you not to speak again, my daughter, until I have finished what I have
to say; and even then, I trust you will keep silence until you are able
to command yourself. You are to stay with my old nurse, Mrs. Hartley, at
her farm near Glenfield. She is a very kind, good woman, and will take
the best possible care of you. I went to the farm myself last week, and
found it a lovely place, with every comfort, though no luxuries, save
the great one of a free, healthy, natural life. There, my Hilda, we
shall leave you, sadly indeed, and yet feeling that you are in good and
loving hands. And I feel very sure," she added in a lighter tone, "that
by the time we return, you will be a rosy-cheeked country lass, strong
and hearty, with no more thought of headaches, and no wrinkle in your
forehead." As she ceased speaking, Mrs. Graham drew the girl close to
her, and kissed the white brow tenderly, murmuring: "God bless my
darling daughter! If she knew how her mother's heart aches at parting
with her!" But Hilda did not know. She was too angry, too bewildered,
too deeply hurt, to think of any one except herself. She felt that she
could not trust herself to speak, and it was in silence, and without
returning her mother's caress, that she rose and sought her own room.

Mrs. Graham looked after her wistfully, tenderly, but made no effort to
call her back. The tears trembled in her soft blue eyes, and her lip
quivered as she turned to her work-table; but she said quietly to
herself: "Solitude is a good medicine. The child will do well, and I
know that I have chosen wisely for her."

Bitter tears did Hildegarde shed as she flung herself face downward on
her own blue sofa. Angry thoughts surged through her brain. Now she
burned with resentment at the parents who could desert her,--their only
child; now she melted into pity for herself, and wept more and more as
she pictured the misery that lay before her. To be left
alone--_alone!_--on a squ