longed to consent, but Cotton's eye was upon her, and Cotton's
departure would be an irreparable loss, so she decided to end the
matter in the most summary manner. Plunging a particularly large pin
into her cushioned breast, as if it was a relief to inflict that
mock torture upon herself, she said sharply:

"It is impossible. You can do as you please, Miss Devon, but I
prefer to wash my hands of the affair at once and entirely."

Christie's eye went from the figure at her feet to the hard-featured
woman who had been a kind and just mistress until now, and she
asked, anxiously:

"Do you mean that you wash your hands of me also, if I stand by
Rachel?"

"I do. I'm very sorry, but my young ladies must keep respectable
company, or leave my service," was the brief reply, for Mrs. King
grew grimmer externally as the mental rebellion increased
internally.

"Then I will leave it!" cried Christie, with an indignant voice and
eye. "Come, dear, we'll go together." And without a look or word for
any in the room, she raised the prostrate girl, and led her out into
the little hall.

There she essayed to comfort her, but before many words had passed
her lips Rachel looked up, and she was silent with surprise, for the
face she saw was neither despairing nor defiant, but beautifully
sweet and clear, as the unfallen spirit of the woman shone through