true as you have thought
me; nothing like Frances, or mamma, of course. And I feel now that you
must know the worst of me. I shall never be happy till you do, even
though it is horrible to own how mean I have been.'

Lady Myrtle sat silent, too bewildered at first to speak. What had come
to Jacinth, so quiet and self-controlled as she usually was? But she
held the girl's hand and said gently, 'Tell me anything that is on your
mind, dear child, though I think--I cannot help thinking--that you are
exaggerating whatever it is that you think you have done wrong.'

Then out it all came: the confession that many would hardly have
understood--would have called morbid and fanciful, perhaps. But Lady
Myrtle's perceptions were keen, her moral ideal very high, her sympathy
great; and she did not make the mistake of crushing back the girl's
confidence by making light of the feelings and even actions which
Jacinth's own conscience told her had been wrong. One thing only she
could not resist suggesting as a touch of comfort.

'I think, latterly at any rate, dear, you _were_ influenced by the fear
of troubling me. You must allow that.'

'Well, yes,' Jacinth agreed. 'But even then I should not have let even
that make me uncandid and--and--almost plotting against them.'

'No, no, dear; don't say such things of yourself. And now you may put it
quite out of your mind for ever. You have been only too severe on
yourself. But try to understand one thing, dear; _no_ child could be to
me what you are. Even--even if these young people had been in happy
relations with me, as of course, but for past miseries, might have been
the case, they would not have been _Jacinth_.'

'No; I know it is for grandmother's sake you care for me so much more
than I deserve,' said the girl, as she wiped away her tears, 'and even
in that way I should not have been jealous. I did not know it was
jealousy. I have never realised before that I could be jealous. But I
cannot put it quite off my mind till you let me feel I have done
something to make up. Lady Myrtle, dear Lady Myrtle, _may_ I ask them to
come to see you? I know they are longing to thank you. And oh, it would
make me so happy!'

'I will think it over, my dear,' was all Lady Myrtle would commit
herself to. But even that was something.

CHAPTER XIX.

UNCLE MARMY'S GATES.

When people really and thoroughly want to do right, and do not content
themselves by _saying_ they want to do so, I do