With praiseworthy resolution Christie set about the reformation without delay; not an easy task and one that taxed all her wit and wisdom to execute without betraying the motive for it. She decided that Mrs. Sterling must not be left alone on Sunday, so the young people took turns to go to church, and such dismal trips Christie had never known; for all her Sundays were bad weather, and Mr. Power seemed to hit on unusually uninteresting texts. She talked while she sewed instead of indulging in dangerous thoughts, and Mrs. Sterling was surprised and entertained by this new loquacity. In the evening she read and studied with a diligence that amazed and rather disgusted David; since she kept all her lively chat for his mother, and pored over her books when he wanted her for other things. “I’m trying to brighten up my wits,” she said, and went on trying to stifle her affections. But though “the absurdity,” as she called the new revelation, was stopped externally, it continued with redoubled vigor internally. Each night she said, “this must be conquered,” yet each morning it rose fair and strong to make the light and beauty of her day, and conquer her again. She did her best and bravest, but was forced at last to own that she could not “put a stop to it,” because she had already reached the point where “it was all over with her.” Just at this critical moment an event occurred which completed Christie’s defeat, and made her feel that her only safety lay in flight. One evening she sat studying ferns, and heroically saying over and over, “Andiantum, Aspidium, and Asplenium, Trichomanes,” while longing to go and talk delightfully to David, who sat musing by the fire. “I can’t go on so much longer,” she thought despairingly. “Polypodium aureum, a native of Florida,” is all very interesting in its place; but it doesn’t help me to gain self-control a bit, and I shall disgrace myself if something doesn’t happen very soon.” Something did happen almost instantly; for as she shut the cover sharply on the poor Polypods, a knock was heard, and before David could answer it the door flew open and a girl ran in. Straight to him she went, and clinging to his arm said excitedly: “Oh, do take care of me: I’ve run away again!” “Why, Kitty, what’s the matter now?” asked David, putting back her hood, and looking down at her with the paternal expression Christie had not seen for a long time, and missed very much. “Father found me, and took me home, and wanted me to marry a dreadful man, and I wouldn’t, so I ran away to you. He didn’t know I came here before, and I’m safe if you’ll let me stay,” cried Kitty, still clinging and imploring. “Of course I will, and glad to see you back again,” answered David, adding pitifully, as he put her in his easy-chair, took her cloak and hood off and stood stroking her curly hair: “Poor little girl! it is hard to have to run away so much: isn’t it?”