"Thank you," said Golden, as she gave a timid glance into the swinging mirror. Celine noted the little incident with feminine quickness, and smiled. "Should you know yourself again?" she asked. "It makes a great difference in my appearance," little Golden replied. "But it does not make you any less pretty," declared Celine. "When your hair hung down it hid all your neck. Now I see that your ears are as pretty as sea-shells, and your neck as white as snow. You are too good-looking for your place, Miss Smith." "And you are too ugly for yours!" put in Ruby, sharply. "Hold your tongue, Miss Pert," said the French maid, with an ugly frown. "It's a deal better to be an ugly servant than a pretty one in this place, and so Miss Smith will find out before long. Not as I says it out of spite for the poor thing. She's to be pitied, being _your_ nurse," pronounced Mademoiselle Celine as she flitted out of the room, seeing that Golden made her no answer. Indeed the poor girl did not know what to say. She was puzzled and frightened over the maid's pert innuendoes, but she did not in the least comprehend what she meant. When Celine was gone she looked into the minor again and then at the portrait on the wall. The hot tears came into the great, blue eyes and blinded them. "Oh, Bert," she whispered inaudibly, "would you know me, would you love me in this strange and altered guise?" "You must do my hair over before dinner, Mary," said the little girl. "I always dine with mamma and papa when they have no company. You will go with me and stand behind my chair while I am eating, to attend to my wants." Golden gave a gasp of mingled pride and dread. "Must I indeed do that?" she asked. "Oh, yes, all my nurses do that way," said the child. "Now, Mary, I must have my hair curled over, and dress for dinner just as mamma does, you know." Golden found that she had a most exacting little mistress. Although frail and diseased, the little creature never allowed her active mind and thin, little body one moment's rest. She was always flying from one thing to another, and kept everyone about her attending to her whims and fancied wants. Yet, in spite of her capricious exactions, Golden could not help being drawn to the child. The dark eyes, and the proud, sweet mouth so like those of the man she loved, won her in spite of herself. At dinner, where she stood droopingly behind little Ruby's chair, the master of the house did not even glance toward her, so that she had a fair chance to observe him from under her heavy, curling lashes. The scrutiny did not satisfy her, although she could not have told how it chanced, for Mr. Desmond was faultlessly handsome. He had a fair, effeminate face, full of languid passion, and those large, long-lashed gray eyes which can shoot the most killing glances. His hair was parted in the middle with scrupulous exactness. His dress was elegant to the verge of foppishness, and a magnificent diamond sparkled on his white hand.