And it was still a very wan and white Christina, who was taken the next morning into Margaret's room by Elizabeth; and Margaret's observant eyes saw at once that all the girl's nerves were on the stretch, that she was in a condition of acute tension. The wish to help this young thing in her hour of need, the sudden necessity for stretching out a succouring hand to another human being, acted as a trumpet call to Margaret's own strong character, and she looked more herself this morning, than she had done for many weeks. "You poor child," she said to Christina, a motherly tenderness in her accents; "have you slept properly; and are you rested?" "I woke rather often," the girl answered with a nervous glance about her. "I kept on starting up, and fancying they had come with the police." "Why should anyone come with the police?" Margaret asked gently; "tell me what has happened--why are you afraid? Surely Lady Cicely cannot have treated you unfairly or unkindly?" "No--o," Christina faltered. "I think she believed in me, but--Sir Arthur----" "Sir Arthur," Margaret interrupted, a sudden sharp note in her voice; "who--do you mean by Sir Arthur?" "Sir Arthur Congreve. He is Lady Cicely's cousin--her husband's cousin." Margaret's white face flushed brightly, but she did not speak. "It was he who accused me of--being a thief; and I was so frightened, so dreadfully frightened, that I ran away." "Ran away? Oh! my dear; try to collect yourself, and tell me quietly all about everything. Why did Sir Arthur make such an accusation against you?" "He saw--a piece of jewellery I was wearing, and he--said it had belonged to his wife--that--Lady Congreve had been robbed, and that I had robbed her. He was sure of it, quite, quite sure, and I had nothing but my bare word to give him; I could prove nothing." "But--I can't understand. Why should Sir Arthur imagine you would wish to steal El---- I mean his wife's jewel. Had she lost it at Bramwell Castle?" "No; she lost it some weeks ago in a train. A young woman took it from her bag; and they are sure I was the young woman. You see, when I came to Lady Cicely, I only had references from people who were dead, or much too far off to be got at, like the solicitor who is I don't know where in Africa. She took me on trust, and--there isn't anybody here who can say I am honest, not anybody." Christina's words ended in a little wail; she put her head down upon the coverlet, and Margaret's hands softly caressed her dusky hair. "But why did you run away?" she asked. "Surely it would have been better to face the difficulty? They may think your running away is a sign of guilt." "I know," the girl answered, lifting her head, and looking into Margaret's face with despairing eyes. "I thought of that so often as I was coming along in the train, but I was afraid to go back. I am afraid to try to face it out, because you see I can prove nothing." "When did Sir Arthur make this accusation?"