And then she turned to her own devotions, but she did not find much comfort in them. She knew she was doing wrong in keeping up this kind of secret intercourse with Isa, and yet she could not quite make up her mind to abandon it. She said to herself that she only did it to help Isa, but in her secret soul she knew better. She found her own comprehension and memory greatly assisted by going over the lessons with another, and she hated to forego the advantage. The truth was, Rhoda was getting into a bad way. She had one grand object in life, and it was a very good object, but she looked at it till it grew so large as to be in danger of eclipsing everything else. Indeed, the atmosphere of the family where she found herself was not favourable to truthfulness. Mrs. Ferrand, if she did not absolutely deceive, certainly managed, her husband. Isa had no scruple about making a false excuse or telling a tolerable sized fib to escape the penalty of any infraction of Mr. Ferrand's numerous "rules." Marion Campbell did not make matters any better when she came. She was a tall, thin Scotchwoman, an excellent cook, a superlative laundress, and neat and quick at all sorts of work. She was always good-natured, even in the agony of dishing up a company dinner, and she was strictly and scrupulously honest in all that pertained to her employer's property. But she thought it no harm to gain her own way by a little canny management, and she had no scruple in bestowing on Isa, of whom she was very fond, all the indulgence that came in her way. Many a delicate sandwich and dainty cake and savoury pickle found its way into Isa's school satchel by Marion's means. "You would na have me send her away hungry, and she such a slender lass?" she said, one day, when Rhoda ventured to hint a remonstrance. "She canna thole the porridge." "I know, and it does seem cruel," answered Rhoda, "and yet it can't be quite right, either, to help her to deceive her father." "It's just his ain fault, then, and no hers," said Marion, who had slipped into Rhoda's room on her way from Isa's. "I'm no that fond of the oatmeal myself, though I was brought up on it. Laws! How many books ye have! Are ye fond of reading?" "Yes, indeed, I am." "Aweel, ye must read to me whiles. I'm fond of a book myself, but my eyes are failed, and I canna see very well. I have a grand history of Scotland that I bought cheap at a stall the ither day. I'll bring it the next time I go home, and we'll have some readings. Eh! What a fine Bible!" "Isn't it?" asked Rhoda. "Dear Aunt Hannah gave it to me the very last time I ever saw her." And Rhoda's eyes overflowed at the remembrance of her last interview with Aunt Hannah.