“God knows I need one!” sighed the poor woman, still holding fast the only creature who had wholly won her. “Child, I am not good, but not so bad that I dare not look in your innocent face and call you friend. I never had one of my own sex. I never knew my mother; and no one ever saw in me the possibility of goodness, truth, and justice but you. Trust and love and help me, Octavia, and I will reward you with a better life, if I can do no more.” “I will, and the new year shall be happier than the old.” “God bless you for that prophecy; may I be worthy of it.” Then as a bell warned them away, the rivals kissed each other tenderly, and parted friends. As Mrs. Snowdon entered her room, she saw her husband sitting with his gray head in his hands, and heard him murmur despairingly to himself, “My life makes her miserable. But for the sin of it I'd die to free her.” “No, live for me, and teach me to be happy in your love.” The clear voice startled him, but not so much as the beautiful changed face of the wife who laid the gray head on her bosom, saying tenderly, “My kind and patient husband, you have been deceived. From me you shall know all the truth, and when you have forgiven my faulty past, you shall see how happy I will try to make your future.” Chapter VII A GHOSTLY REVEL “Bless me, how dull we are tonight!” exclaimed Rose, as the younger portion of the party wandered listlessly about the drawing rooms that evening, while my lady and the major played an absorbing game of piquet, and the general dozed peacefully at last. “It is because Maurice is not here; he always keeps us going, for he is a fellow of infinite resources,” replied Sir Jasper, suppressing a yawn. “Have him out then,” said Annon. “He won't come. The poor lad is blue tonight, in spite of his improvement. Something is amiss, and there is no getting a word from him.” “Sad memories afflict him, perhaps,” sighed Blanche. “Don't be absurd, dear, sad memories are all nonsense; melancholy is always indigestion, and nothing is so sure a cure as fun,” said Rose briskly. “I'm going to send in a polite invitation begging him to come and amuse us. He'll accept, I haven't a doubt.” The message was sent, but to Rose's chagrin a polite refusal was returned. “He _shall_ come. Sir Jasper, do you and Mr. Annon go as a deputation from us, and return without him at your peril” was her command. They went, and while waiting their reappearance the sisters spoke of what all had observed. “How lovely Mrs. Snowdon looks tonight. I always thought she owed half her charms to her skill in dress, but she never looked so beautiful as in that plain black silk, with those roses in her hair,” said Rose. “What has she done to herself?” replied Blanche. “I see a change, but can't account for it. She and Tavie have made some beautifying discovery, for both look altogether uplifted and angelic all of a sudden.”