CHAPTER I.

THE LAST DAY AT REDMAYNE HOUSE.


What trifles vex one!

I was always sorry that my name was Esther; not that I found fault
with the name itself, but it was too grave, too full of meaning for
such an insignificant person. Some one who was learned in such
matters--I think it was Allan--told me once that it meant a star, or
good fortune.

It may be so, but the real meaning lay for me in the marginal note
of my Bible: Esther, fair of form and good in countenance, that
Hadassah, who was brought to the palace of Shushan, the beautiful
Jewish queen who loved and succored her suffering people; truly a
bright particular star among them.

Girls, even the best of them, have their whims and fancies, and I
never looked at myself in the glass on high days and holidays, when a
festive garb was desirable, without a scornful protest, dumbly
uttered, against so shining a name. There was such a choice, and I
would rather have been Deborah or Leah, or even plain Susan, or
Molly; anything homely, that would have suited my dark, low-browed
face. Tall and angular, and hard-featured--what business had I with