"And if this storm blows over, as I still hope it may, you will return to us, dear madam," said Master Lucas. "Truly the house will seem empty and dreary without you. Meantime, let no word of this matter be dropped in the household—before Anne, least of all." "I cannot make up my mind to distrust Anne," said Jack. "No person is to be trusted whose mind and conscience are wholly in the keeping of another," said Master Lucas. "I pray you, let me manage the matter my own way." "So Madam Barbara is going to leave us," said Cicely, a few days afterward. "Father William has discovered some friends of hers off among the hills who desire a visit from her, and she is to go to them. We shall miss her more than a little." "I hope to return, one of these days," said Madam Barbara. "I am sure I shall never find a happier home than this or a kinder friend than you are, dear Cicely, if I go over the world to look for them; but this lady is very lonely, and she has daughters to educate, and, moreover, there are other reasons which make my going desirable." "Well, well; every one knows his own business best, and blood is blood—I don't deny that," said Cicely, "and I can't but think one's own relations were meant to be nearer than other folks, for all Anne says about it. But it must be a wild, dreary place—especially in winter." "The more need for sunshine in the house, and I am sure Madam Barbara carries that with her wherever she goes," said Jack. Anne heard of the intended departure of Sister Barbara with little regret. There had, of late, been no sympathy between them. Anne felt that Sister Barbara wholly disapproved of her conduct to her father and brother; and dead as she believed herself to be to all earthly things, she could not endure even an intimation of that blame she was so ready at all times to bestow on others. Moreover, she was jealous. It was impossible to live with Sister Barbara and not love her, and though Anne did not and would not take any pains to make herself agreeable or beloved, yet it angered her to the soul, to see another taking the place which belonged of right to herself. Anne's life, at this time, was one of sheer inconsistency. She was fighting in behalf of a faith in which she, in her heart, scarcely preserved a shadow of belief; she was determined to crush out all earthly ties, and at the same time she was able to endure the thought of not being first in her father's house; and though she had told her brother that she should feel perfectly justified in betraying him, she was yet fiercely indignant at him for withholding his confidence from her. All this inward conflict did not tend to make her the more amiable, and while she revenged upon herself by renewed penances any failure in "holy humility," she was deeply hurt and indignant if any one in the least degree reproved or resented her bursts of temper.