cares for nothing as yet, will see no one, and prefers to live
alone. She is still so feeble this is but natural; yet solitude is
bad for her, and her physician thinks that a new face might rouse
her, and the society of one in no way connected with the painful
past might interest and do her good. You see it is a little
difficult to find just what we want, for a young companion is best,
yet must be discreet and firm, as few young people are."

Fancying from Mrs. Carrol's manner that Miss Tudor had said more in
her favor than had been repeated to her, Christie in a few
plain-words told her little story, resolving to have no concealments
here, and feeling that perhaps her experiences might have given her
more firmness and discretion than many women of her age possessed.
Mrs. Carrol seemed to find it so; the anxious look lifted a little
as she listened, and when Christie ended she said, with a sigh of
relief:

"Yes, I think Miss Tudor is right, and you are the one we want. Come
and try it for a week and then we can decide. Can you begin to-day?"
she added, as Christie rose. "Every hour is precious, for my poor
girl's sad solitude weighs on my heart, and this is my one hope."

"I will stay with pleasure," answered Christie, thinking Mrs.
Carrol's anxiety excessive, yet pitying the mother's pain, for
something in her face suggested the idea that she reproached herself
in some way for her daughter's state.

With secret gratitude that she had dressed with care, Christie took
off her things and followed Mrs. Carrol upstairs. Entering a room in
what seemed to be a wing of the great house, they found an old woman