Poor Miriam was a prominent example of such relentless and predestined misfortune. Born with a noble nature and a kindly heart, gifted with beauty and with talent, she had been dragged down to the depths by some power she could not defy. When Barton had come to her aid she had thought that the tide of fortune had turned at last in her favour, and would drift her into a haven of peace. Such she had trusted to find in this quiet country village; but even here it seemed she was to be pursued and crushed by the same ubiquitous fate. Mrs. Darrow, on no reasonable grounds, hated her; Gerald, the one man whose love she now craved, withheld that love from her; Barton had her in his toils; Jabez was coming out of the darkness to haunt and trouble her; and on every side she was surrounded with difficulties. Since Mrs. Darrow had given her notice, she had almost in despair resolved to take what money was due to her and disappear--to break off with the past, and try once again to begin her life afresh and unhampered by the sins of others. But a very brief reflection showed her that she could not even do this. She was too keenly conscious of her duty to shirk her responsibilities--to do that would be with her only to carry remorse in addition to her other burdens. So she resolved to abide where she was, and face the worst. But her spirit was broken, and her power of resistance to evil fortune well-nigh gone. Mrs. Darrow still held to her intention of dismissing her governess; but at the same time she had no fancy that Uncle Barton should know anything about it for the present. That would inevitably mean direct conflict in which she was sure to be worsted. It would be well, she thought, to put things to Miss Crane from that point of view. "There is no need because we are going to part that we should do so in anger, Miss Crane," she said frigidly. "For my part I am quite willing that things should be just as they were until you go. Nor is it necessary really that Mr. Barton knows anything about it--it would only upset him, and lead to unpleasantness all round. Indeed, it might even hasten your departure, so I don't think if I were you----" "I understand perfectly, Mrs. Darrow," interrupted Miriam. "I will say nothing to Mr. Barton for the present. I am quite willing to go." "You must understand, Miss Crane," pursued the widow, egotistic and tactless as ever, "that I must be mistress in my own house. I approve of you in many ways, and I admit that you have fulfilled your duties with discretion. At the same time I confess I do not like the mystery with which you choose to surround yourself." "There is no mystery about me, Mrs. Darrow. Mr. Barton made such inquiries as he thought necessary, I presume, before he engaged me."