“Is it possible that you do not know how she disgraced herself and family?” madam demanded, sternly, as if in some way Star was to blame for said disgrace. “Have you never been told how a poor clergyman once preached in the church where your mother attended worship, fell in love with her pretty face, and finally persuaded her to marry him, to the utter disregard of her whole family, who were highly respectable people.” Star’s cheeks glowed hotly beneath this tirade, and her blue eyes flamed at this slur upon her idolized parents. “I do not consider mamma’s marriage anything of a ‘misfortune’ or a ‘disgrace,’” she answered, with something of hauteur, and speaking very distinctly. “She was very happy all her life, and papa was a splendid man—a superior man.” Mrs. Richards smiled in a lofty kind of way, as she returned: “It is very natural, I suppose, that you should be your father’s champion; nevertheless he was not, socially, your mother’s equal, and she degraded herself in the eyes of all her family by marrying a penniless preacher, and a dissenter, too.” Star’s lips parted again, as if about to utter an indignant protest to this statement; but, with a wave of her white hand, Mrs. Richards coolly dismissed the subject and turned again to Mrs. Blunt. “I suppose everything belonging to her was lost,” she said. “Yes, madam; the poor child has nothing in the world save what she has on,” that woman answered, with a compassionate glance at Star. “That is awkward; but you can take her to the sewing-room and tell Miss Baker to measure her for a couple of dresses; tell her to make them from that piece of print that I purchased yesterday. Can you sew, Stella?” she asked, turning again to the young girl, whom she had not even invited to be seated. “Yes’m; mamma taught me to sew when I was quite young, and I have attended to my own wardrobe, with the aid of a seamstress, ever since she died.” “That is well. You can then assist Miss Baker about your dresses, and when they are completed I will arrange about your other duties. You can go now. Mrs. Blunt will show you the way to your room, where you can lay aside your shawl and hat and then go to the sewing-room.” Star gave the woman a stare of blank astonishment. She had been most delicately and tenderly reared; her education had been carefully superintended by her father, and the constant companionship of her refined and intellectual mother had made her a little lady in every sense of the word. She had been taught to be kind and courteous to every one; to sympathize with people in trouble; to rejoice with them in prosperity; and now this woman—this cousin to her mother—this human being, whom she knew her mother once saved from a dreadful death—had received her, after her long and perilous voyage, her suffering and hardships, in this unfeeling, indifferent way.