"Don't be too sure of anything about me. I don't know what I might have been led to do. But I am very sorry. Do forgive me."

"I cannot allow that I have anything to forgive. But tell me, Euphra, were you the creature, in white that I saw in the Ghost's Walk one night? I don't mean the last time."

"Very likely," she answered, bending her head yet lower, with a sigh.

"Then who was the creature in black that met you? And what became of you then?"

"Did you see her?" rejoined Euphra, turning paler still. "I fainted at sight of her. I took her for the nun that hangs in that horrid room."

"So did I," said Hugh. "But you could not have lain long; for I went up to the spot where you vanished, and found nothing."

"I suppose I got into the shrubbery before I fell. Or the count dragged me in.--But was that really a ghost? I feel now as if it was a good messenger, whether ghost or not, come to warn me, if I had had the courage to listen. I wish I had taken the warning."

They talked about these and other things, till Mrs. Elton, who had made Hugh promise to stay to lunch, returned. When they were seated at table, the kind-hearted woman said:

"Now, Mr. Sutherland, when will you begin again with Harry?"

"I do not quite understand you," answered Hugh.

"Of course you will come and give him lessons, poor boy. He will be broken-hearted if you don't."

"I wish I could. But I cannot--at least yet; for I know his father was dissatisfied with me. That was one of the reasons that made him send Harry to London."

Harry looked wretchedly disappointed, but said nothing.

"I never heard him say anything of the sort."

"I am sure of it, though. I am very sorry he has mistaken me; but he will know me better some day."

"I will take all the responsibility," persisted Mrs. Elton.

"But unfortunately the responsibility sticks too fast for you to take it. I cannot get rid of my share if I would."

"You are too particular. I am sure Mr. Arnold never could have meant that. This is my house too."

"But Harry is his boy. If you will let me come and see him sometimes, I shall be very thankful, though. I may be useful to him without giving him lessons."

"Thank you," said Harry with delight.

"Well, well! I suppose you are so much in request in London that you won't miss him for a pupil."

"On the contrary, I have not a single engagement. If you could find me one, I should be exceedingly obliged to you."

"Dear! dear! dear!" said Mrs. Elton. "Then you shall have Harry."

"Oh! yes; please take me," said Harry, beseechingly.

"No, I cannot. I must not."

Mrs. Elton rang the bell.

"James, tell the coachman I want the carriage in an hour."

Mrs. Elton was as submissive to her coachman as ladies who have carriages generally are, and would not have dreamed of ordering the horses out so soon again for herself; but she forgot everything else when a friend was in need of help, and became perfectly pachydermatous to the offended looks or indignant hints of that important functionary.

Within a few minutes after Hugh took his leave, Mrs. Elton was on her way to repeat a visit she had already paid the same morning, and to make several other calls, with the express object of finding pupils for Hugh. But in this she was not so successful as she had expected. In fact, no one whom she could think of, wanted such services at present. She returned home quite down-hearted, and all but convinced that nothing could be done before the approach of the London season.

CHAPTER XVII.

STRIFE.

They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, An adder and a snake; But haud me fast, let me not pa.s.s, Gin ye would be my maik.

They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, An adder and an aske; They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, A bale that burns fast.

They'll shape me in your arms, Janet, A dove, but and a swan; And last, they'll shape me in your arms A mother-naked man: Cast your green mantle over me-- And sae shall I be wan.

Scotch Ballad: Tamlane.

As soon as Hugh had left the house, Margaret hastened to Euphra.

She found her in her own room, a little more cheerful, but still strangely depressed. This appearance increased towards the evening, till her looks became quite haggard, revealing an inward conflict of growing agony. Margaret remained with her.

Just before dinner, the upstairs bell, whose summons Margaret was accustomed to obey, rang, and she went down. Mrs. Elton detained her for a few minutes. The moment she was at liberty, she flew to Euphra's room by the back staircase. But, as she ascended, she was horrified to meet Euphra, in a cloak and thick veil, creeping down the stairs like a thief. Without saying a word, the strong girl lifted her in her arms as if she had been a child, and carried her back to her room. Euphra neither struggled nor spoke. Margaret laid her on her couch, and sat down beside her. She lay without moving, and, although wide awake, gave no other sign of existence than an occasional low moan, that seemed to come from a heart pressed almost to death.

Having lain thus for an hour, she broke the silence.

"Margaret, do you despise me dreadfully?"

"No, not in the least."

"Yet you found me going to do what I knew was wrong."

"You had not made yourself strong by thinking about the will of G.o.d.

Had you, dear?"

"No. I will tell you how it was. I had been tormented with the inclination to go to him, and had been resisting it till I was worn out, and could hardly bear it more. Suddenly all grew calm within me, and I seemed to hate Count Halkar no longer. I thought with myself how easy it would be to put a stop to this dreadful torment, just by yielding to it--only this once. I thought I should then be stronger to resist the next time; for this was wearing me out so, that I must yield the next time, if I persisted now. But what seemed to justify me, was the thought that so I should find out where he was, and be able to tell Hugh; and then he would get the ring for me, and, perhaps that would deliver me. But it was very wrong of me. I forgot all about the will of G.o.d. I will not go again, Margaret. Do you think I may try again to fight him?"

"That is just what you must do. All that G.o.d requires of you is, to try again. G.o.d's child must be free. Do try, dear Miss Cameron."

"I think I could, if you would call me Euphra. You are so strong, and pure, and good, Margaret! I wish I had never had any thoughts but such as you have, you beautiful creature! Oh, how glad I am that you found me! Do watch me always."

"I will call you Euphra. I will be your sister-servant--anything you like, if you will only try again."

"Thank you, with all my troubled heart, dear Margaret. I will indeed try again."