"Here we are, safe and sound! It has been adventurous, but all's well that ends well. Have you been anxious, mother dear? I do hope not." She bent to kiss her mother with an unwonted tenderness, which brought a flush of pleasure into the thin cheek. "How sweet that child looks to-night! Did you notice?" she said to her husband when they were once more alone. "And she was so gentle and considerate. It's such a pleasure to see her like that, for she is sometimes so difficult." Dr Trevor smiled. "She is mellowing, dear, she is mellowing! I told you it would come. The child is turning into a woman--and a bonnie woman she will be too. Dear little Betty!" And in the shelter of her attic bedroom the child woman was holding a lighted candle before the looking-glass, and staring half abashed into an oval face with dilated eyes, and dark hair twisted by the damp into a cloud of tiny ringlets. "Did he--did he think me--nice?" she was asking of herself. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. THE SISTERS. Upon the first quiet opportunity Betty confided the history of her walk to her mother, who listened with the deepest interest and sympathy. "It was a great opportunity, dear, and you made the most of it. I am proud of my daughter," she said. "I will join with you in praying that the poor fellow may be kept true to his pledge. It's not the first step which costs in these struggles, whatever the proverb may say; the hardest part of the fight comes later on, when the first excitement is over, and progress seems so pitifully slow. So don't let yourself grow weary in well-doing, dear Betty. Your poor friend will need your prayers more and more, not less and less." "Oh no, I shall never grow tired," said Betty confidently. Then her face clouded, and she sighed. "Mother, do you suppose I shall ever--see him again?" "It is very unlikely, dear. He is going so far away, and will have no money to spare for visits home. It must be a large sum which he has to repay, if the loss of it necessitated such a change in his friend's household. With everything in his favour it would take a long time to earn." "How long, mother?" "Dear child, what a question! It is impossible to say. It would be extraordinary, I should think, if he managed it in less than a dozen years." "A dozen years! I should be thirty! I shall be hideous at thirty," thought Betty ruefully, recalling the vision of the sweet, flushed face which had looked at her from the mirror the day before. Could it be possible that a dozen years--twelve whole years--could pass by without bringing her any tidings of "Ralph"? In the state of exaltation which had possessed her last night she had felt raised above the need of words, but already reaction had set in, and with it a strange sense of depression at the thought of the future.