Pauline stood still for a moment gazing intently up at the picture, and then followed the others into the dining-room. Before Tom had spoken to his aunt she had seen how white and strange her face was--as white as if she was about to faint. And a sudden idea had flashed upon Pauline, making her heart beat fast. That night, when Rhoda was brushing her hair, she heard a soft tap at the door. To her surprise, it was Pauline who entered. “I have come to borrow some matches,” she said. “I find my box is empty. How pretty your room is! So is mine. It is a charming house altogether. May I sit down and talk to you a little? I want you and Miss Merivale to spend a long day with us next week. Do you think you could persuade her to come?” The change in Pauline’s manner was so extraordinary that Rhoda found it difficult to speak. But Pauline did not appear to notice her constrained answer. She sat down in the low chair by the window and took up the photograph frame that stood there by Rhoda’s little writing case and a saucer filled with white violets and moss. “May I look at this? It is your aunt and cousins, isn’t it? What a dear little fellow that is on your aunt’s lap! Is that the little boy who was ill? You took him into the country, didn’t you?” An irrepressible glimmer of fun came into Rhoda’s dark eyes. “Yes, into Essex,” she said demurely. “They have all gone into the country now, haven’t they? How fortunate it was that Miss Merivale heard me mention you, Miss Sampson! She noticed the name at once. It is quite certain, isn’t it, that you are related to her through her sister’s marriage?” “Miss Merivale insists on thinking so,” said Rhoda quietly. “But I cannot be sure of it.” “Don’t you remember your own people at all? I can feel for you, if that is so. My father and mother died while I was a baby. Can you remember your mother? I wish I could.” “No, I cannot remember her.” “And your father?” “Just a little.” Rhoda’s cold, brief replies checked Pauline. She did not find it so easy to pump Rhoda as she had expected. She put the photograph down, and got up with a yawn. “I am keeping you up,” she said. “May I have the matches? Thank you. Good-night.” She gave Rhoda one of her most charming smiles as she spoke; but Rhoda’s good-night was studiously cold. She had no desire to accept the olive branch Pauline was holding out to her. CHAPTER X. A CONFESSION. The more Pauline thought of it the more she felt convinced that she had solved the mystery of Miss Merivale’s sudden interest in Rhoda. And she spent a long time in considering what was the best use she could make of her discovery. Her first idea had been to disclose the truth to Rhoda herself, and thus establish a claim to her gratitude. But something in Rhoda’s manner the night before made her hesitate. And she felt half inclined to believe that her best plan would be to speak to Miss Merivale and assure her that she could be trusted to keep silent.