“But I shall be gone from it forever, and Margery will think it an overdose taken accidentally to ease the pain. Yes, this is better than the river; and yet I am so hot and feverish that the cold water would be grateful to me, and this is just the night for such a deed, only Margery then would know I meant it, and I must not lose her respect. I must carry that with me at least. No, to sleep and never waken is the best. So, Margery, darling, and Queenie, too, good-by!” She raised the glass to her lips just as the door-bell rang a loud, clanging peal, which made her start so violently that the glass dropped from her trembling hand, and the poison was spilled on the floor. It was Mr. Beresford who rang, and Christine heard him speaking to Margery in the hall. The sound of their voices quieted her and for the time turned her from her terrible resolve. “I will not die to-night; I will wait,” she said as she cleared away all traces of the broken glass, and then, undressing herself, went to bed, but not to sleep, for her thoughts were busy with the past, when she was young and innocent, and first entered the service of Margaret Hetherton. She could not remember her father who died when she was two years old. Her mother had kept a cheap French _pension_ in the suburbs of Paris, and Christine had often assisted in waiting upon the guests who frequented the house. As she was very pretty and bright and piquant she naturally attracted a good deal of attention, and sometimes words were said to her which she knew were insults, and which she repelled with scorn for she was then honest and pure as a child, and would have shrunk with horror from the future had it been shown to her. At the age of eighteen her mother died and she was left alone without money or employment. It was then that she saw an advertisement in the morning paper to the effect that a waiting-maid was wanted by a young American lady, who could be seen at the Hotel Meurice every day for a week between the hours of twelve and two. As the terms offered were unusually liberal she resolved to apply for the situation, notwithstanding that she had had no experience. At the appointed hour she presented herself to Margaret, who was reclining upon a white satin couch, while partly behind her Mr. Hetherton stood with folded arms, and a critical look upon his face. Accustomed as he was to the world, he saw at a glance that Christine Bodine knew nothing of the habits of a fine lady, such as he meant his wife to be, now that she was removed from the Fergusons, a thought of whom made him shudder. Indeed, the girl, when questioned for references, and the address of her last employer, acknowledged freely that she had no references, and had never served as maid. “But I can learn,” she said; “and I will serve madame so faithfully. I should so like you to try me,” and she looked imploringly at Margaret, who saw something in the girl which pleased her.