me again. She is not like to do or to get much good here."
But she darkened the room, and closed the door softly, and left her.
When Christie awoke the afternoon was nearly gone. Her first feeling
was one of utter wretchedness; but her sleep had rested and refreshed
her, and her courage revived after she had risen and washed her face and
put her dress in order. When she was ready to go down, she paused for a
moment, her hand resting on the knob of the door.
"I might try it," she murmured; and she fell on her knees by the
bedside. It was only a word or two she uttered:
"O God, give me courage and patience, and help me to do right."
Her tears fell fast for a moment; but her heart was lightened, and it
was with a comparatively cheerful face that she presented herself in the
little back parlour, where she found Mrs McIntyre taking tea with a
friend.
"Oh, you are up, are you?" she said, kindly. "You looked so weary, I
couldna bear to call you at dinnertime; but I kept your dinner for you.
Here, Barbara; bring in the covered dish." And she placed a seat for
the girl between her and her friend.
Christie thanked her, and sat down, with an uncomfortable feeling that
the friends had been discussing her before she had come in. And so it
soon appeared. The conversation, which her entrance had interrupted,
was soon resumed.
"You see, I don't well know what his business is," said the visitor.
"But, at any rate, he doesn't seem to have much to spend--at least in
his family. His wife--poor lady!--has her own troubles. He's seldom at
home; and she has been the most of the time, till this illness, without
more than one servant. When she's better, I dare say she'll do the same
again. In the meantime, I have promised to look for one that might
suit. The one she has leaves to-morrow. My month's out too, then, and
she's to let me go; though how she's to battle through, with that infant
and all the other children, is more than I can tell."
Mrs McIntyre shook her head.
"She would never do for the place. She doesna look strong; and the
house is large, you say?"
"Far larger than they need. I said that to her, one day. But she said
something about keeping up a certain appearance. She's not one that a
person can speak freely to, unless she likes. How old are you, my
girl?" she suddenly asked, turning round to Christie.
"I was fourteen in June," she replied; and turning to Mrs McIntyre, she
asked, "Is it a
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