With a strong effort, the hand which had crept away under the sofa-cushion, came back from its hiding-place, and rested upon Mabel’s brow, while Nellie’s voice answered, softly and slow, “What is it, Mabel? I will hear you.” Briefly, then, Mabel told the story of her short life, beginning at the time when a frowning nurse tore her away from her dead mother, chiding her for her tears, and threatening her with punishment if she did not desist. “Since then,” said she, “I have been so lonely—how lonely, none but a friendless orphan can know. No one has ever loved me, or if for a time they seemed to, they soon grew weary of me, and left me ten times more wretched than before. I never once dreamed that—that Mr. Livingstone could care aught for one so ugly as I know I am. I thought him better suited for you, Nellie. (How cold your hand is, but don’t take it away, for it cools my forehead.”) The icy hand was not withdrawn, and Mabel continued: “Yes, I think him better suited to you, and when his mother told me that he loved me, and that he would, undoubtedly, one day make me his wife, it was almost too much for me to believe, but it makes me so happy—oh, so happy.” “And he—he, too, told you that he loved you?” said Nellie, very low, holding her breath for the answer. “Oh, no—_he_ never told me in _words_. ’Twas his mother that told me—he only _acted_!” “And what did he do?” asked Nellie, smiling in spite of herself, at the simplicity of Mabel, who, without any intention of exaggerating, proceeded to tell what John Jr. had said and done, magnifying every attention, until Nellie, blinded as she was by what his mother had said, was convinced that, at all events, he was not true to herself. To be sure, he had never told her he loved her in words; but in actions he had said it many a time, and if he could do the same with Mabel, he must be false either to one or the other. Always frank and open-hearted herself, Nellie despised anything like deception in others, and the high opinion she had once entertained for John Jr., was now greatly changed. Still, reason as she would, Nellie could not forget so easily, and the hour of midnight found her restless and wakeful. At length, rising up and leaning upon her elbow, she looked down upon the face of Mabel, who lay sleeping sweetly at her side. Many and bitter were her thoughts, and as she looked upon her rival, marking her plain features and sallow skin, an expression of scorn flitted for an instant across her face. “And _she_ is preferred to me!” said she. “Well, let it be so, and God grant I may not hate her.” Erelong, better feelings came to her aid, and with her arms wound round Mabel’s neck, as if to ask forgiveness for her unkind thoughts, she fell asleep. CHAPTER XV. MRS. LIVINGSTONE’S CALLS AND THEIR RESULT.