started up, called Eudoxia by name, and went towards the sleeping-room.

Eudoxia went forward to meet her; Mary threw herself into her arms, and
before her governess could ask any questions she told her that she had
been chosen to accomplish a great and important action. She had been
intending to wake her, to make her her confidant and to ask her advice.

How sweet and genuine it all sounded, and how charmingly confused she
seemed in spite of the ardent zeal that inspired her!

Eudoxia's heart went forth to her; the words of reproof died on her lips,
and for the first time she felt as though the orphaned child were her
own; as though their joy and grief were one; as though she, who all her
life long had thought only of herself and her own advantage, and who had
regarded her care of Mary as a mere return in kind for a salary and home,
were ready and willing to sacrifice herself and her last coin for this
child. So, when the little girl now threw her arms round Eudoxia's neck,
imploring her not to betray her, but, on the contrary, to help her in the
good work which aimed at nothing less than the rescue of Paula and Orion-
the imperilled victims of Fate, her dry eyes sparkled through tears; she
kissed Mary's burning cheeks once more and called her her own dear, dear
little daughter. This gave the child courage; with tragical dignity,
which brought a smile to the governess' lips, she took Eudoxia's bible
from the desk, and said, fixing her beseeching gaze on the Greek's face:

"Swear!--nay, you must be quite grave, for nothing can be more solemn--
swear not to tell a soul, not even Mother Joanna, what I want to confess
to you."

Eudoxia promised, but she would take no oath. "Yea, yea, and nay, nay,"