"No, mother, I longed for you to know; I am sure that telling you his story has given Jack the greatest relief. And weren't you a bit angry with him, mother?" "Angry, Rosamund? Was this a time to be angry? and do mothers as a rule turn away from repentant sons?" "Not mothers such as you," I replied. "Mothers worthy of the name would never do such a thing," she replied. "Why, Rosamund, a mother--I say it in all reverence--stands something in the place of God. When we are truly repentant we never feel nearer to God, and so a boy is never truly nearer to his mother than when he has done something wrong, and is sorry for it. Come up-stairs with me at once, I must help you to make your preparations. You have not an hour to lose in going to Jack's Hetty." My mother was so excited, so enthusiastic, that she would scarcely give me breathing-time to put my things together. "You must not delay," she kept on saying. "You have told me how careless the landlady is, and that poor child has had no one to do anything for her since early morning. Rose, dear, how is she off for little comforts, and clothes and those sort of things?" "I should say, very badly off, mother. Hetty is as poor as poor can be." "I have one or two night-dresses," began my mother. "Now, mother, you are not going to deprive yourself." "Don't talk of it in that light, Rose. Hetty is my daughter, remember." I felt a fierce pang of jealousy at this. My mother left the room, and presently returned with a neatly-made-up parcel. "You will find some small necessaries for the poor child here," she said. "And now go, my darling, and God bless you. One word first, however. How are you off for money, Rose?" "I have plenty, mother. Don't worry yourself on that point." "I have a little pearl ring up-stairs, which I could sell, if necessary." The tears rushed to my eyes when my mother said this. The pearl ring was her sole adornment, and she had worn it on Sunday ever since we were children. "You shall never sell your dear ring," I said. I rushed up to her, kissed her frantically, and left the house. Hetty and I spent a quiet Sunday together. She was much better, and she looked very pretty in the warm, softly-coloured dressing-jacket which mother had sent her. She told me her little story, which was simple as story could be. She had no parents, nor any near relatives living. Even a distant cousin, who had paid for her education, had died two years previously. She thought herself very lucky when she secured the post of English teacher at Miss West's Select Seminary for young ladies. She made Jack's acquaintance early in the spring; no one else had ever been specially kind to her, and when he asked her to marry him, she said "Yes," in a burst of delight and gratitude. "I didn't know he was so grand as he has turned out to be, miss," said Hetty, in conclusion. "Now, Hetty, what did I say about miss?"