Ah, if Bertram Chesleigh could only have known what true and faithful little heart was breaking so near him. After awhile the brightness died from Ruby's eyes, the little face looked tired and wan. She said, almost petulantly: "Now I shall send you all away. Miss Glenalvan laughs so much she makes my head ache." "Fie, my darling," cried her mother. "It is the truth, mamma," cried the willful little girl. "I want you all to go now and Mary shall bathe my head until I get better." "Who is Mary? I feel quite jealous of her," said Elinor, sweetly, but inwardly raging at the spoiled child's "whims" as she termed them to herself. "Mary is my nurse," said the child, and her uncle laughingly added: "A person with antipathy to me, Miss Glenalvan. You should cultivate her. She must be a _rara avis_." "Do you suppose that all women admire your sex, sir?" retorted the young lady, spiritedly, and they left the room exchanging lively _badinage_, while Mrs. Desmond looked inside the other door for Golden. She saw her sitting quietly, her sweet face bent over some sewing, no trace apparent of the heartache she was silently enduring. "Mary, you may come to your charge now," she said with so much more than her usual kindness of tone that Golden's delicate lip quivered. Mrs. Desmond had been pleased to hear that Ruby's beautiful nurse disliked men and was not willing to remain in the room with one. She laid aside her sewing and went in to Ruby. Mrs. Desmond bent to kiss her pet, and said, fondly: "Shall I stay and bathe your head, love?" "No, mamma, I would rather have Mary," she replied. "I shall be jealous of Mary. You are so fond of her," the mother rejoined as she left the room. Golden put the dolls away and bathed the brow of the little sufferer until she fell into a deep and quiet sleep. Then she sat near the window and watched the gloomy September rain pattering drearily down, and the white mist rising from the sea. The door opened and Celine came in softly, and sat down. "I want to talk to you a little, Mary," she said, in her low voice. "Shall I disturb the child?" "Not if you talk softly," replied Golden, hoping that Celine would tell her something about Glenalvan Hall. She was not disappointed, for the maid said at once: "I want to tell you about a queer old black woman I saw at that place where Mr. Chesleigh was ill--Glenalvan Hall," watching her narrowly. Golden started and looked up eagerly. "Yes, tell me about her, Celine," she said, with repressed excitement. "Well, to begin with," said Celine, "she was a most ridiculous-looking old creature, full of grumblings and complaints. This old creature when she found I was from New York, came to me secretly, and asked me the oddest question." Golden, chancing to look up at that moment, met Celine's eyes fixed upon her with such a strange expression that her heart gave a frightened bound. It was evident that the maid had some suspicions of her.