"How long," said Marcia, in a low, strained voice, "how long have you known this?" "I have suspected it for a year, but I have been positively certain only within the last three months. I was then called in to attend on your mother when she had had a very serious collapse. She was quite unconscious when I got to the house and for a short time I despaired of her life. She came to, however, and I made as lightly as I could of the attack; but it was then that I told your father I thought he ought to have somebody more capable of looking after his wife than his young daughters. The next day I examined my patient's heart very carefully, and I found that the mischief which would cause such an attack did exist to a larger extent than I had the least idea of before." "When you asked my father to get a more competent nurse for her, what did he say?" "He said he would not have a hired nurse in the house on any terms, and immediately mentioned you." "Dr Anstruther, I will also speak plainly to you. There is time enough, may I?" "Certainly, Miss Aldworth." "I am not her real daughter." "Does that count? She came to you when you were a very little child." "That is true, and had she no daughter of her own, I should never mention the fact. I would attend to her as I would my real mother, and be glad to do so; but she has three daughters of her own; two grown-up and the other quite old enough to be useful." "That is true." "They should have taken care of her." "They do not know how to, Miss Aldworth. I cannot express to you the neglect that poor woman suffered. She is not very strong-minded herself, and she never knew how to command, how to order, how to force those girls to do their duty. They need some one with a head on her shoulders to guide them. The poor thing drifted and let them drift, and the state of things was disgraceful. It could not have gone on. Had you failed to come, you would soon have had no stepmother to trouble you." "I am glad I came," said Marcia, and the tears started to her eyes. "I knew you would be." "And yet," continued the girl, "it means a great deal of self-sacrifice on my part." "I thought you were a teacher in a school." "In one sense you are right, in another wrong. I am a teacher, or I was a teacher, in Mrs Silchester's school at Frankfort. Mrs Silchester is Miss St Just's aunt, and Angela St Just has been my dearest friend for some years." "Indeed?" "Yes." "I saw you together just now." "I was happy at the school. I was paid nothing, for I have sufficient money of my own. I did what teaching I could, and received instruction in return. _No_ girl could have been happier. I had many friends about me; my life was full. To be with Mrs Silchester alone was a happiness unspeakable, and Angela was, and is to be again, a member of the school. Think what I have lost." "I am sorry for you, but the path of duty." "I will walk on it, Dr Anstruther; but the girls must help me."