“Thee is too hard upon thyself, Davy. Forget the past and be happy as other men are. Thee has atoned for thy fault long ago, so let me see thee at peace before I die, my son.” “Not yet, mother, not yet. I have no right to hope or ask for any woman’s love till I am worthier of it,” answered David in a tone that thrilled Christie’s heart: it was so full of love and longing. Here Kitty came running in from the green-house with her hands full of flowers, and passing Christie, who was fumbling among the cloaks in the passage, she went to show David some new blossom. He had no time to alter the expression of his face for its usual grave serenity: Kitty saw the change at once, and spoke of it with her accustomed want of tact. “How handsome you look! What are you thinking about?” she said, gazing up at him with her own eyes bright with wonder, and her cheeks glowing with the delicate carmine of the frosty air. “I am thinking that you look more like a rose than ever,” answered David turning her attention from himself by a compliment, and beginning to admire the flowers, still with that flushed and kindled look on his own face. Christie crept upstairs, and, sitting in the dark, decided with the firmness of despair to go away, lest she should betray the secret that possessed her, a dead hope now, but still too dear to be concealed. “Mr. Power told me to come to him when I got tired of this. I’ll say I am tired and try something else, no matter what: I can bear any thing, but to stand quietly by and see David marry that empty-hearted girl, who dares to show that she desires to win him. Out of sight of all this, I can conquer my love, at least hide it; but if I stay I know I shall betray myself in some bitter minute, and I’d rather die than do that.” Armed with this resolution, Christie went the next day to Mr. Power, and simply said: “I am not needed at the Sterlings any more: can you give me other work to do?” Mr. Power’s keen eye searched her face for a moment, as if to discover the real motive for her wish. But Christie had nerved herself to bear that look, and showed no sign of her real trouble, unless the set expression of her lips, and the unnatural steadiness of her eyes betrayed it to that experienced reader of human hearts. Whatever he suspected or saw, Mr. Power kept to himself, and answered in his cordial way: “Well, I’ve been expecting you would tire of that quiet life, and have plenty of work ready for you. One of my good Dorcases is tired out and must rest; so you shall take her place and visit my poor, report their needs, and supply them as fast as we can. Does that suit you?” “Entirely, sir. Where shall I live?” asked Christie, with an expression of relief that said much.