was both
three months ago. I was then drowning, and rather wished the operation
over. All at once a hand was stretched to me--such a delicate hand I
scarcely dared trust it; its strength, however, has rescued me from
ruin."

"Are you really rescued?"

"For the time. Your assistance has given me another chance."

"Live to make the best of it. Don't offer yourself as a target to
Michael Hartley; and good-night!"

* * * * *

Miss Helstone was under a promise to spend the evening of the next day
at Fieldhead. She kept her promise. Some gloomy hours had she spent in
the interval. Most of the time had been passed shut up in her own
apartment, only issuing from it, indeed, to join her uncle at meals, and
anticipating inquiries from Fanny by telling her that she was busy
altering a dress, and preferred sewing upstairs, to avoid interruption.

She did sew. She plied her needle continuously, ceaselessly, but her
brain worked faster than her fingers. Again, and more intensely than
ever, she desired a fixed occupation, no matter how onerous, how
irksome. Her uncle must be once more entreated, but first she would
consult Mrs. Pryor. Her head laboured to frame projects as diligently as
her hands to plait and stitch the thin texture of the muslin summer
dress spread on the little white couch at the foot of which she sat. Now
and then, while thus doubly occupied, a tear would fill her eyes and
fall on her busy hands; but this sign of emotion was rare and quickly
effaced. The sharp pang passed; the dimness cleared from her vision. She
would re-thread her needle, rearrange tuck and trimming, and work on.

Late in the afternoon she dressed herself. She reached Fieldhead, and
appeared in the oak parlour just as tea was brought in. Shirley asked
her why she came so late.

"Because I have been making my dress," said she. "These fine sunny days
began to make me ashamed of my winter merino, so I have furbished up a
lighter garment."

"In which you look as I like to see you," said Shirley. "You are a
lady-like little person, Caroline.--Is she not, Mrs. Pryor?"

Mrs. Pryor never paid compliments, and seldom indulged in remarks,
favourable or otherwise, on personal appearance. On the present occasion
she only swept Caroline's curls from her cheek as she took a seat near
her, caressed the oval outline, and observed, "You get somewhat thin, my
love, and somewhat pale. Do you sleep well? your eyes have a l