"Some people might think it long ago. I was very fond of my
father. It's nearly four years since he died, and my heart still
aches when I think of him. I'm not easily depressed by troubles,
Miss de Sor. But his death was sudden--he was in his grave when I
first heard of it--and-- Oh, he was so good to me; he was so good
to me!"

The gay high-spirited little creature who took the lead among
them all--who was the life and soul of the school--hid her face
in her hands, and burst out crying.

Startled and--to do her justice--ashamed, Francine attempted to
make excuses. Emily's generous nature passed over the cruel
persistency that had tortured her. "No no; I have nothing to
forgive. It isn't your fault. Other girls have not mothers and
brothers and sisters--and get reconciled to such a loss as mine.
Don't make excuses."

"Yes, but I want you to know that I feel for you," Francine
insisted, without the slightest approach to sympathy in face,
voice, or manner. "When my uncle died, and left us all the money,
papa was much shocked. He trusted to time to help him."

"Time has been long about it with me, Francine. I am afraid there
is something perverse in my nature; the hope of meeting again in
a better world seems so faint and so far away. No more of it now!
Let us talk of that good creature who is asleep on the other side
of you. Did I tell you that I must earn my own bread when I leave
school? Well, Cecilia has written home and found an employment
for me. Not a situation as governess--something quite out of the