te
and refined about her than the other children,--with somehow the air
of a little lady.

But Mauryeen was not her mother's child to be without a will of her
own. As she grew from childhood to girlhood she began to assert
herself, and though her mother tried hard to break her spirit she did
not succeed. After a time she seemed to realise that here was
something she had not counted upon, and to submit, since she could not
hope to fight it. All the same she hated the girl whom she could not
rule, hated her so furiously that the glitter of her eyes as she
looked at her from the chimney-corner was oftentimes murderous. For,
little by little Mauryeen grew to be friends with all the fishing
village.

Even though she asserted herself the girl did her duty bravely and
humbly. Any mother of them all would have been proud to own Mauryeen.
When her mother had employment at the Hall Mauryeen took care of the
house, and having cleaned and tidied to her heart's content, sat in
the sun at her knitting till Ellen Daly came home to find a
comfortable meal prepared for her. The woman's one good quality was
that she had always been a good housewife, and the girl took after
her. Then when her mother was at home Mauryeen went out sewing to the
houses of the few gentry who lived on the hill; and the house was
well kept and comfortable, though an unnatural hatred sat beside the
hearth.

The neighbours pitied and praised Mauryeen all the more. They used to
wonder how long it would last, the silent feud between mother and
daughter, especially since Mauryeen was so capable and clever that she
might for the asking join even Mrs. Wilkinson's chosen band of
handmaidens.

The girl meanwhile throve as happily as though she lived in the very
sunshine of love rather than in this malignant atmosphere. She saw
little of her mother. The hours when they were under one roof were
few; and across the threshold she found abundant kindness and praise.
Mauryeen was small and graceful, with the olive-tinted fairness which
had been her mother's in her best days. But Mauryeen's blue eyes were
kindly and her lips smiled, and her soft voice was gentle; she had a
pretty way of decking herself which the fisher-girls could never come
by. Mauryeen in a pink cotton frock, with a spray of brown seaweed in
her belt, might have passed for one of the young ladies who visited at
the Hall. If the other girls copied her pretty tricks of decoration
they carried the tame a