forward, however, all confidence and cordiality between the two girls were over. Helen frequently found part of her work already done by the active Jessie; but the latter shunned as much as possible, without being absolutely rude, all communication with her. If Helen's remonstrance had at first given her slightly uncomfortable feelings, they quickly vanished beneath the soothing influence of Robin Rae's visits and attentions, the high estimation in which she was held by everybody, and the general brightness of her prospects. In her moments of elation, it appeared to her highly presumptuous in a person so much her inferior, in every one's opinion, as Helen was, to have dared to have found fault with her; but she could easily forgive her in the magnanimity conferred by her own superior happiness and consideration.

Meantime, the estrangement of the two girls did not escape the lynx eyes of Mrs Young. She questioned them both on the subject, but could obtain no satisfactory answer from either. The scrupulous Helen looked sad and confused, and returned an evasive reply. She was not used to deception of any kind, and the slightest shade of it made her awkward. The bolder and more practised Jessie answered at once, that they didna gree aboot a thing or twa; but they were gude freends, for a' that."

"It is a shame for Helen to quarrel with you.'

'Oh, we dinna quarrel. Helen has a wheen queer notions, that's a'.'

Nothing further could be elicited from Jessie; but her manner was perfectly frank and unembarrassed. "Queer notions,' thought Mrs Young; 'I wonder what about. Servants always think they should not tell tales of one another. That Helen is a sly slut; I do not like her quiet look.' And with all her former suspicions renewed and strengthened, Mrs Young watched more narrowly than ever. She soon became certain that the supposed disappearance of eggs, meal, tea, sugar, and various other things, was no mere fancy. There was a dishonest person in the house; so much was certain. It only remained to bring home the theft to the guilty individual. Mrs Young would not inform against any one on mere suspicion, however certain she might feel in her own mind; but she was not a person to let such a matter rest without endeavouring to bring it to an issue.

Mrs Young had a brain fertile in expedients, and was not long in devising a plan, by means of which the criminal might be detected. A large basket of eggs usually stood in a cupboard in the bedroom storey, to which, besides the family, only Helen and Jessie had access. Besides eggs, this cupboard contained tea, sugar, arrow-root, and preserves-all of which articles, Mrs Young felt certain, were greatly diminished beyond what they could have been by the consumption of the family. Mrs Young now resolved, on a certain day, to replenish this basket with eggs, counting them as she put them in. To make doubly sure, she marked each egg, as she placed it in the basket, with a tiny cross

mistress very reasonably requires. My father was a respectable tradesman in Glasgow, who kept a small grocery-shop near Street. My mother died when I was twelve years old, leaving only my sister and myself. My father was very fond of us; and as he was well to do in those days, he kept a servant, and sent us to a ladies' day-school. I was always fond of reading and sewing, particularly flowering, and used to work collars, and veils, and such things, for myself and my sister, who was very pretty. My father died suddenly two or three years before my sister was married. I then went to Ayrshire, where I gained a living for some years by working muslin.'

Ye wad like to gang back to Ayrshire, I fancy?' said Jessie. 'Ye wadna like to be a servant?' glancing at Helen's small, thin hands, which did not look as if they had been accustomed to rough work.

'No, I do not care about going back to Ayrshire, if I could maintain myself here. I have no friends in Ayrshire-no one anywhere who has been so kind to me as you have. I am one of those people who do not easily make friends. I would take any place, if I thought I could do the work; but I am not very strong. I could be nursery-maid, or to wait on a sick person. I am good at the sewing, and would take a very small wage.'

The report which Jessie took back to Todlaw Mains proved so satisfactory, that Mrs Young set about forthwith looking for a nursery-maid's place for Helen Gray. But it was a season of the year when places were difficult to be had. Three weeks had elapsed; and as Helen's health was quite restored, she was beginning to feel very uncomfortable at continuing to be a burden on the Gibsons, when a place turned up for her in a sudden and rather lamentable manner. One day, when Miss Ann Young was riding, she was thrown from her horse, and her spine severely injured in consequence of the fall. In the delicate state of health to which she was reduced, it was found necessary to have a person on purpose to wait upon her. It struck all the family as well as Jessie that Helen Gray would answer exactly; and as the latter had no difficulty in undertaking the duties required of her, she was at once installed as nurse to Miss Ann. It would have been impossible to find a nurse more gentle, quiet, and cleanly than Helen; still, she was not so great a favourite with any of the family as Jessie was. She was neither physically nor mentally of the stamp that most pleased Mrs Young. Although she got through her work by dint of determination and perseverance, she was not naturally active, and often looked languid, and as if she felt that she had to do a task. Then, though always obedient and civil, she seemed incapable of being delighted with anything. Mrs Young would rather have seen her occasionally a little 'put out' and cross, like Jessie, when anything annoyed her, if, like Jessie also, she would sometimes have looked lively and joyous. 'She has been unfortunate, no doubt,' said Mrs Young; still, she

has been in great luck to get a place like ours, and ought to feel and look thankful and happy instead of miserable. I cannot help thinking there must be something under that low, downcast look. I do not like your close, reserved people: I can never quite trust them.' And thus a sort of vague prejudice grew up in the minds of Mrs Young and her family against poor Helen, who, after all, was only guilty of having a different class of faults from themselves. She was slow, and she was reserved. Bodily exertion was always an effort to her; and her disposition, naturally shrinking and pensive, had been rendered more so by the events of her life; but as she made the effort, and never murmured at her lot, perhaps she deserved praise rather than blame.

IV.

The dark months had now passed by. It was spring. Robin Rae had obtained the situation of gardener to Mr Oliver of Springsyde House, and was to enter upon his new duties and take possession of the lodge at Whitsunday. He and Jessie were to be married as soon as the month of May was over-it being a popular superstition in Scotland, that it is unlucky to marry in that month. The prospective departure of the latter was loudly lamented by the whole family at Todlaw Mains, who rejoiced, nevertheless, on Jessie's account. Every member of the family gave her a present, while Helen sat up at night to work her a set of collars, which Mrs Gibson pronounced to be 'fit for ony leddy i' the land.'

Instead, however, of becoming more cheerful as the days became longer and brighter, Helen became even sadder; it was not, however, that she was insensible to the charms of this loveliest season. Far more than Jessie, who liked them too, as she liked everything that was cheerful and sunny, she felt their beauty, and sympathised with their deeper spirit; yet, except at occasional happier moments, a settled grief seemed to prey upon her mind. Miss Ann said one day to her mother, that she gave her the idea of a person who had a troubled conscience. This was a hint sufficient to engage the attention of the active-minded and somewhat suspicious and prejudiced Mrs Young. She would watch her,' she said, and keep an eye upon everything. It had struck her lately, that the tea and sugar had been vanishing rather quickly, and, except the family, nobody ever had the key but Helen and Jessie; and Jessie was of course above suspicion. The disappearance, too, of that gold brooch was a very mysterious affair; she was almost sure it was in her dress when she came in from the field. She wished there might be any truth at all in Helen Gray's story. Very likely, after all, the infant was her own, and she might have another to support she did not choose to tell of. In short, there was no saying; but she would keep a strict watch.'

honest face became radiant with glee as he looked up in Jessie's, to see how she looked when she heard herself called Mrs Rae. But Jessie neither blushed nor laughed, nor was angry, nor did anything Robin expected: a faint smile, sadder than any sigh could have been, alone shewed that the words had not passed unnoticed, while the rising tears forced themselves into her eyes. She felt that Robin alluded to a happiness with which she could have nothing to do. Then he spoke of their wedding and their wedding-day; but nothing he said seemed to have power to interest or give pleasure to his betrothed. Every moment Jessie's conviction became stronger, that her happiness was gone for ever. She seemed to herself to have suddenly become a different person from what she used to be. Praised, flattered, and liked by everybody, she had lulled herself into the pleasing belief, that she really was what everybody seemed to think her: now the mask she had worn to herself had dropped; and in Robin's words, as in a mirror, Jessie seemed to see herself no longer the perfection of womankind and of faithful servants, but to catch a glimpse of herself as a dishonoured thief and liar-one not fit to be the wife of an honest, man. As yet, however, it was but a glimpse; she could not look steadfastly at that horrible image of herself. At present, she felt incapable of thinking at all.

Robin, meanwhile, became partly aware of her state: he attributed it solely to distress on her friend's account, and perhaps to want of rest. He did not doubt that he should find her quite restored on his next visit. He took leave early, recommending her to go to bed, while with even more than his usual tenderness, he bade her adieu.

Though without much apprehension on account of his betrothed, his heart was filled with indignation against the dishonest and ungrateful Helen.

V.

Jessie's mind became, on the following day, calmer and more collected. She was naturally possessed of great energy and resolution of character; hitherto, these qualities had only displayed themselves in outward things; they had never been in any way trained or directed so as to act in the government of the mind. Her moral qualities, as well as her understanding, were both above the average; but the rich soil nourished only weeds, though, it must be confessed, some of these weeds bore pretty wild blossoms. Now, however, her slumbering powers were awakened. Almost for the first time in her life, she began to think, for except when she was arranging her work, or laying plans for the distribution of her time, her thoughts were mere mental ramblings. She never examined her own motives-never asked herself if she were right or wrong: habit and example had

induced in her a kind of routine of thinking and acting, containing much evil and a little good, but with which she had been heretofore uninquiringly satisfied. But now that the storm had actually burst, and that Jessie saw what terrible consequences had resulted from her supposed innocent conduct, she did begin to suspect she might have been mistaken in so esteeming it. She had a confused, vague sense of the great truth-that sorrow is always the offspring of guilt somewhere. Where? in the present case, was now the important question. The fault was not with Helen certainly. Throughout she had behaved nobly. "Oh,' thought Jessie, 'if I had only taken her advice!' Neither was it Mrs Young's. Jessie would fain have believed it was; but she remembered Robin's words: Stealing is always stealing, and a thief maun aye be a liar.' And now Jessie saw how true this was. She could recall many falsehoods she had told which at the time had not wounded her conscience, but which came stinging back now with redoubled pain. And besides these absolute falsehoods, what a system of deceit had her whole conduct been! Her understanding no longer obscured by pride, passion, and selfishness, to her own judgment she now stood convicted-a thief! Jessie, who had been so proud, so self-satisfied! The revulsion of feeling was overwhelming. Life itself seemed scarcely supportable under the load of self-contempt beneath which she was fallen. Then what was to be done? Was she to become yet more utterly base and selfish, by permitting the magnanimous Helen to suffer the punishment and disgrace which were due to her alone? and all her life long, as she was now doing, play the hypocrite, and receive from all around her praises and caresses which bowed her soul to the dust with a sense of falsehood and shame? Or was she to submit to be treated as Helen had been treated-to be dragged to prison as a felon―to be tried in open court as a thief— to be disgraced in the eyes of all who had hitherto admired and praised her to be cast off with horror and contempt by Robin who so loved her-whom she so loved?

Anything but this! Death rather than this. Death rather than see him look at her with such a look as his face had worn when he had denounced the possibility of his marrying a thief. As these thoughts chased one another through Jessie's brain, as hour after hour, and day after day they tortured it unceasingly, she feared that in some moment of passion she might be hurried to some desperate deed. At one instant, she had resolved on one course of action-a resolution which the next instant overturned. Several times she had been on her way to the parlour, to confess all to her mistress; then at the very door the idea of Robin had checked her. It seemed impossible that this state of agitation and indecision could continue much longer. No mind was capable of supporting so incessant and painful a tension of all its faculties and feelings.

Meanwhile Jessie's deplorable condition did not altogether escape the notice of those around her. Daily she became paler and