“A very sad thing, Miss Devon,—very sad, indeed; a thing which never occurred in my establishment before, and never shall again. It appears that Rachel, whom we all considered a most respectable and worthy girl, has been quite the reverse. I shudder to think what the consequences of my taking her without a character (a thing I never do, and was only tempted by her superior taste as a trimmer) might have been if Miss Cotton, having suspicions, had not made strict inquiry and confirmed them.” “That was a kind and generous act, and Miss Cotton must feel proud of it,” said Christie, with an indignant recollection of Mr. Fletcher’s “cautious inquiries” about herself. “It was perfectly right and proper, Miss Devon; and I thank her for her care of my interests.” And Mrs. King bowed her acknowledgment of the service with a perfect castanet accompaniment, whereat Miss Cotton bridled with malicious complacency. “Mrs. King, are you sure of this?” said Christie. “Miss Cotton does not like Rachel because her work is so much praised. May not her jealousy make her unjust, or her zeal for you mislead her?” “I thank you for your polite insinuations, miss,” returned the irate forewoman. “I never make mistakes; but you will find that you have made a very great one in choosing Rachel for your bosom friend instead of some one who would be a credit to you. Ask the creature herself if all I’ve said of her isn’t true. She can’t deny it.” With the same indefinable misgiving which had held her aloof, Christie turned to Rachel, lifted up the hidden face with gentle force, and looked into it imploringly, as she whispered: “Is it true?” The woful countenance she saw made any other answer needless. Involuntarily her hands fell away, and she hid her own face, uttering the one reproach, which, tender and tearful though it was, seemed harder to be borne than the stern condemnation gone before. “Oh, Rachel, I so loved and trusted you!” The grief, affection, and regret that trembled in her voice roused Rachel from her state of passive endurance and gave her courage to plead for herself. But it was Christie whom she addressed, Christie whose pardon she implored, Christie’s sorrowful reproach that she most keenly felt.