credit and
affection. It made me jealous of Ethel herself, as long as we were in
the same sphere; and when I felt that she was more to papa than I could
be, I looked beyond home for praise. I don't think the things I did were
bad in themselves--brought up as I have been, they could hardly be so. I
knew what merits praise and blame too well for that--but oh! the motive.
I do believe I cared very much for Cocksmoor. I thought it would be a
grand thing to bring about; but, you see, as it has turned out, all
I thought I had done for it was in vain; and Ethel has been the real
person and does not know it. I used to think Ethel so inferior to me.
I left her all my work at home. If it had not been for that, she might
have been happy with Norman Ogilvie--for never were two people better
matched, and now she has done what I never thought to have left to
another--watched over our own Margaret. Oh! how shall I ever bear to see
her?"

"My dear, I am sure nothing can be more affectionate than Ethel. She
does not think these things."

"She does," said Flora. "She always knew me better than I did myself.
Her straightforward words should often have been rebukes to me. I shall
see in every look and tone the opinion I have deserved. I have shrunk
from her steadfast looks ever since I myself learned what I was. I could
not bear them now--and yet--oh, aunt, you must bring her! Ethel! my
dear, dear old King--my darling's godmother--the last who was with
Margaret!"

She had fallen into one of those fits of weeping when it was impossible
to attempt anything but soothing her; but, though she was so much
exhausted that Mrs. Arnott expected to be in great disgrace with Dr. May
for having let her talk herself into this condition, she found that
he was satisfied to find that she had so far relieved her mind, and
declared that she would be better now.

The effect of the conversation was, that the next day, the last of the
twelve Christmas days, when Ethel, whose yearning after her sister was
almost equally divided between dread and eagerness--eagerness for her
embrace, and dread of the chill of her reserve, came once again in
hopes of an interview. Dr. May called her at once. "I shall take you
in without any preparation," he said, "that she may not have time to be
flurried. Only, be quiet and natural."

Did he know what a mountain there was in her throat when he seemed to
think it so easy to be natural?

She found him leading her into a da