Christina flushed vividly, partly at the words of praise, partly because, as they were spoken, a face rose before her mental vision, a man's face, lined and rugged, with marks of pain carved upon it, with a haunting look of pain in its grey eyes. And with that remembrance, came also a sudden impetuous wish that it might be given to her to bring rest to the man who was Lady Cicely's cousin, the man whose very name she did not know. She was startled out of the strange train of thought, by her companion's voice. "I cannot imagine," she was saying, "why it is that your face and voice are in some odd way familiar to me, and yet you assure me we have never met before?" "We have never met," Christina answered decidedly. "I could not have forgotten you if I had ever seen you--and oh!" she went on with an eager girlish gesture, "please mayn't I have some name to remember you by--not any name that--that you would rather I did not know," she added quickly, seeing an anxious look in the other's eyes; "only just something to keep in my thoughts of you." "Call me--just--Margaret in your thoughts," was the answer; "that is one of my names; call me that." "But it seems"--Christina hesitated--"it seems like impertinence, to call you by a Christian name. You----" "Yes, I know. I am old enough to be your mother,"--the dark eyes looked wistfully into the eager young face--"and the life I have lived makes me feel more as if I was a thousand, instead of only thirty-eight. But still, there is a young corner in my heart--quite a young corner, where I can feel like a girl again; and it would please me if you called me Margaret." "Margaret," Christina repeated softly; "I am glad you have such a beautiful name. It seems to belong to your beautiful face." She spoke dreamily, scarcely aware of what she said, but as the sound of her own words fell on her ears, she flushed deeply, and a deprecating look came into her eyes. "Oh! I beg your pardon," she exclaimed; "I was speaking my thoughts aloud, and it was rude of me. But, do you know, ever since I first saw you, I have called you in my mind 'the beautiful lady.' You see, I had no name by which to call you." "It was very pretty of you," Margaret smiled, her fingers touching the girl's dusky hair. "Once upon a time, long ago, when I was as young as you, I was beautiful; it is not vanity to say that now. I was a beautiful girl. But life, and all that life has brought--have----" "They have made you more beautiful," the girl interrupted eagerly; "they have put sadness into your face, but they have not taken away its beauty; they have only added to it." Margaret smiled again, and an answering smile flashed over the girl's face, making the older woman lean towards her, and exclaim, with a puzzled stare--