e must be no
concealments between us. You ought to know that your mistress has told
me why she parted with you. It was her duty to tell me the truth, and
it is my duty not to be unjustly prejudiced against you after what I
have heard. Pray believe me when I say that I don't know, and don't
wish to know, what your temptation may have been--"

"I beg your pardon, Miss, for interrupting you. My temptation was
vanity."

Whether she did or did not suffer in making that confession, it was
impossible to discover. Her tones were quiet; her manner was
unobtrusively respectful; the pallor of her face was not disturbed by
the slightest change of colour. Was the new maid an insensible person?
Iris began to fear already that she might have made a mistake.

"I don't expect you to enter into particulars," she said; "I don't ask
you here to humiliate yourself."

"When I got your letter, Miss, I tried to consider how I might show
myself worthy of your kindness," Fanny answered. "The one way I could
see was not to let you think better of me than I deserve. When a
person, like me, is told, for the first time, that her figure makes
amends for her face, she is flattered by the only compliment that has
been paid to her in all her life. My excuse, Miss (if I have an excuse)
is a mean one---I couldn't resist a compliment. That is all I have to
say."

Iris began to alter her opinion. This was not a young woman of the
ordinary type. It began to look possible, and more than possible, that
she was worthy of a helping hand. The truth seemed to be in her.

"I understand you, and feel for you." Having replied in those words,
Iris wisely and delicately changed the subject. "Let me hear how you
are situated at the present time," she continued. "Are your parents
living?"

"My father and mother are dead, Miss."

"Have you any other relatives?"

"They are too poor to be able to do anything for me. I have lost my
character--and I am left to help myself."

"Suppose you fail to find another situation?" Iris suggested.

"Yes, Miss?"

"How can you help yourself?"

"I can do what other girls have done."

"What do you mean?"

"Some of us starve on needlework. Some take to the streets. Some end it
in the river. If there is no other chance for me, I think I shall try
that way," said the poor creature, as quietly as if she was speaking of
some customary prospect that was open to her. "There will be nobody to
be sorry for me--and, as I have read