gain, there was Irene herself--Irene
so altered, so sweet to little Agnes, so kind about Hughie. Poor Miss
Frost was so torn between her diverse emotions that she scarcely knew
what to do.

Meanwhile Rosamund had gone into the room. She made a slight noise, and
Agnes, only half-asleep, opened her dark eyes and fixed them on
Rosamund's face.

"What is it? Is there a toad in the room?" she said.

"Don't be silly, Agnes," said Rosamund. "I really have no patience with
you. Now, what is the matter? Sit up in bed and tell me."

Rosamund did not mean to be unkind, nor did she speak in an unkind way,
although her words sounded somewhat determined.

"I want to speak to you, Agnes," she said. "You were told stories--and
very exaggerated they doubtless were--by Lucy Merriman when Irene and I
were at The Follies to-day."

"I was told frightful stories all about Irene."

"Then do you mean to tell me you don't love her any more?"

"I shall always love her; but if she were to do such a thing to me it
would kill me."

"She would never do such a thing to you. Now, I will tell you something
about her. She used to be a wild and very naughty child. People were
afraid of her, and she had nothing else to occupy her time but to add to
their terrors. Then I came across her path, and I was not a bit afraid
of her. In short, I think I helped her not to be so naughty. But I did
not do half the good you have done."

"I?" said little Agnes, in amazement.

"Yes, you, Aggie--you; for you loved her, and you helped her to be good
by simply trusting her, and by clinging to her and thinking her all that
is good and beautiful. Between us--you and me--we were softening her,
and she will be a splendid woman some day, not a poor, miserable wretch,
half-wild, but good and true and noble."

"I like women of that sort," said little Agnes, in a fervor of
enthusiasm.

"And that is what your own Irene will be, provided that you do not give
her up."

"I give her up?" said little Agnes. "But I never will."

"You gave her up to-night when you refused to sleep in the room with
her. She is in my room now, trembling all over, terrified, grieved,
amazed. Oh, Aggie, why did you do it?"

"I was frightened," whispered Agnes. "I suppose I am a coward."

"You certainly are a very great coward, and I am surprised at you, for
Irene would no more hurt you than a mother would her own little child.
You have got to come back to her in my arms, and you have go