looked very
stern as he spoke. "She has treated him abominably. Wait a moment, Miss
Lambert," as she seemed about to leave him; "there is no hurry, is
there? and I have not spoken to you to-day. Do you think you are wise to
mix yourself up in this? My mother is thinking more of Edna than of you,
but you will do no good, and only make yourself miserable. Leave Edna
alone to-night, and come and play to me instead."

"Mr. Sefton, I never thought you could be so selfish."

He laughed outright as Bessie said this very seriously.

"Never trust any man; we are all of us selfish. But to tell you the
truth, I was not thinking of my own enjoyment at that minute. I wanted
to save you an hour's unpleasantness, but I see you prefer to make
yourself miserable."

"I think I do in the present instance," returned Bessie quietly.

"Very well, have your own way; but if you take my advice, you will not
waste your pity upon Edna. She is flinging away her happiness with her
eyes open, just to gratify her temper. You see I can speak plainly, Miss
Lambert, and call things by their right names. Just out of pride and
self-will, she is bidding good-bye to one of the best fellows living,
and all the time she knows that he is a good fellow. She won't find
another Neville Sinclair, I tell her."

"No; and it is just because she is doing it herself that I am sorry for
her," replied Bessie. "Please don't keep me, Mr. Sefton; you do not
understand--how can you? If he had died, if anything else had separated
them, it would be so much easier to bear, but to do it herself, and then
to be so sorry for it afterward--oh, how miserable that must be!" and
Bessie's voice became a little unsteady as she hastily bade him good
night.

CHAPTER XVI.

A NOTE FROM HATTY.

Bessie knew that she would find Edna in her mother's dressing room--a
large, comfortable room, much used by both mother and daughter when they
were tired or indisposed. Mrs. Sefton generally used it as a
morning-room, and it was fitted up somewhat luxuriously.

Bessie found Edna lying on a couch in her white tea-gown, with a novel
in her hand. The pink shade of the lamp threw a rosy glow over
everything, and at first sight Bessie thought she looked much as usual;
her first words, too, were said in her ordinary tone.

"So you have found your way up at last," she exclaimed, throwing down
her book with an air of disgust and weariness; "my head ached this
afternoon, and so mamma thou