ought to do. William, how could I reconcile it to my conscience not to
help?" she continued. "Think of papa! think of his strait! It appears
to be a plain duty thrown in my path."

"By yourself, Constance?" "Not by myself," she whispered, lifting for
a moment her large blue eyes. "Oh, William, William, do not be
displeased with me! do not forbid it! It is honourable to work--it is
right to do what we can. Strive to see it in the right light."

"Let that carnation alone, Constance; give your attention to me. What
if I do forbid it?"

She walked a little forward, leaving the carnation bed, and halted
under the shade of the dark cedar tree, her heart and colour alike
fading. Mr. Yorke followed and stood before her.

"William, I must do my duty. There is no other way open to me, by which
I can earn something to help in this time of need, except that of
becoming a governess. Many a lady, better born than I, has done it
before me."

"A daily governess, I think you said?"

"Papa could not spare me to go out altogether; Annabel could not spare
me either; and--"

"I would not spare you," he struck in, filling up her pause. "Was that
what you were about to say, Constance?"

The rosy hue stole over her face again, and a sweet smile to her lips: