"It will be my own fault if I am not," she faltered, holding out her hand; and such a look of pure childish gratitude lit her dark eyes that the young man reddened and turned aside. "Oh, Mr. Clayton, what can I do to repay you and Langley?" "Hush," he replied, lightly, and trying to turn it off with a laugh; "there is no talk of payment between friends; it is all understood between us. You are only in our debt a little while; besides, you are a rich woman now." "Oh, I forgot," she exclaimed in such a tone of dismay that the others looked quite startled. "I mean--ah, yes, it will all be right soon," endeavouring to recover herself. It was a cosy little meal after all. Garth, who saw that Queenie's fluctuating spirits needed tranquillizing, set himself to reassure and soothe her; and when he had succeeded, the three had one of their long thoughtful talks. By-and-bye Langley came, and then Ted, and filled the little room to overflowing, so that they betook themselves to the porch and the lawn. It was quite late when they separated, and Queenie went up to her new little room. The glimmering lights in the village had been extinguished. The roads looked white and still in the moonlight; only a faint barking from a dog in the distance broke the stillness. "How wrong and wicked I was last night!" thought the girl humbly, as she stood by the table, touching Langley's roses with caressing fingers. "I was lonely and sad; I wanted I cannot tell what. But to-night it is so different; it is so sweet to feel he has done all this for me; that it is his thought for me as well as theirs; that, whatever happens, he will be my friend, always my friend." CHAPTER IX. FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM. "She prayed me not to judge their cause from her, That wrong'd it, sought far less for truth than power In knowledge; something wild within her breast, A greater than all knowledge, beat her down." _Tennyson's 'Princess.'_ The days passed very tranquilly and pleasantly after this for the inhabitants of the cottage. Queenie had regained her brightness in a great measure. In spite of a certain dim fear that haunted the background of her memory, her life seemed full of a strange, sweet excitement. The buoyancy of youth was strong within her; the knowledge of her secret wealth gave an intoxicating flavor to everything. As she walked to and fro to her daily work, she felt like a disguised princess, like the heroine of some fairy story she had read once, spinning in her woollen garments among the simple peasant folk. "I like being a rich woman after all," she said to herself, "it is so amusing. I feel just like Cinderella before the pumpkin coach arrives; it is a story-book sort of life I am leading. Fancy teaching in a village school when one has five thousand a-year. What shall I do with it all, I wonder; I wish I might give some to Langley and Cathy."