en, listen."

Irene began. She could tell that marvelous tale with all the grace and
unction and passion which her genius inspired her with. Little Agnes
listened and listened, and forgot her terrors. She clung closer and
closer to her companion, and when the story came to an end her starry
eyes were brimful of tears.

"Oh, that is very sweet!" said the little girl. "And now the little
princess is one of the spirits of the air, and she has won
something"----

"She has won her soul," said Irene in a strange, strangled sort of
voice; for it occurred to her that, after all, the little princess might
have a greater resemblance to herself than ever she had thought. For was
she not fighting for her own soul all this time?

While little Agnes slept, Irene sat in the room by her side still and
quiet. There were voices heard in the distance; the manly voice of
Hughie, who was somewhat dictatorial, and was ordering people about, and
telling this person or the other that they were doing things wrong, and
was terrifying his sister by his manly ways. There was Rosamund's voice,
who was quite delighted at the turn events had taken. There was Miss
Frost's voice, anxious about Agnes, and quite sure that Irene must end
by terrifying her. There was Rosamund again persuading and soothing, and
doing all she could to allow the present order of things to take a
natural course. But upstairs in the pretty little bedroom the child
slept peacefully; and Irene looked at her and felt new sensations, new
hopes, new desires struggling in her breast. She had loved Rosamund
because she was so strong. She was beginning to love little Agnes
because she was so weak. What a strange tangle the world was! What was
happening to her? And why was that curious living thing within so
satisfied, so happy, so sure of itself?

It was between six and seven o'clock when Agnes, neatly and tidily
dressed, came downstairs, accompanied by Irene, who led her straight
into the drawing room.

"This is Agnes Frost, mothery," said Irene; "and you are on no account
to tire her. She is better now. Are you not, Agnes?"

"Yes, I am better," replied the little girl. "But who is this grand lady
you are introducing me to?"

"This is my mother--Lady Jane."

"I never knew anybody called 'Lady' before."

"Well, my mother is Lady Jane--Lady Jane Ashleigh."

Little Agnes held out a timid hand.

"How do you do, dear? I hope you have got over the fatigue of your
journey."