Miss Merivale's Mistake

ale and Rose were both absorbed in their own thoughts, and n

uessed that her aunt's thoughts were fixed on Rhoda Sampson, the girl Pauline had spoken of in such contemptuous terms? She supposed her aunt was asleep, she sat so still in the

. The March twilight had gathered thickly, and lights were shining from the wind

et and fresh the air is here! Don't you pity those girls cooped up in that stuffy little flat?

pping before the wide porch. A short, fair-haired young man, with

playful scolding tone. "Rose, you should not have allowed it. But come in. There is a jolly fir

nging lamps shone upon shining silver that had been in the family for two hundred years, on an old Worcester tea-set that had been bought by Miss Merivale's grandmother, on bowls of early spring flowers gathered by Rose that morning from the beautiful old garden at the back of the house. Everything i

ing the trouble in it, and he

get on?" he asked, "Did yo

ook. "Oh, Tom, I quite f

them this week. Cousin Ann has a wonderful show of anemones this year, Aunt Lucy. The square bed in the back garden is br

s; they are fanciful flowers," returned Miss

y fast, poor old soul. Part of the time she thought I was Cousin James,

le. "You are very much like James, Tom," she said, glancing at the portrait that

erivale's death. James Merivale had died young, ten years before his father; and Lydia, Miss Merivale's only sister, had married against her father's wishes, and had been disowned by him. After vainly trying to gain his forgiveness, she and her husband emigrated to Australia, and for some years nothing was

had named Rhoda, after her mother. The letter asked for money, and Miss Merivale sent what she

wards his disobedient daughter at the last, for by a codicil to his will it was provided that at Miss Merivale

n up his home in Melbourne and started with his little daughter for a distant settlement. He never reached the settlement, and all Miss Merivale's efforts to trace

d Rhoda Sampson the name had gone through her like a knife. She tried-she had been trying ever since-to tell herself that it was impossible it could be James Sampson's child, but the terror had laid fast hold of her, and

at the mention of her sister's name. He w

eek, Rosie. Mr. Powell has asked Laura to sing at

stay with Pauline next week. And I wish people wou

you, Rosie; and our Parish Room isn't the Albert Hall. You had much better go to Broadhurst than

expression. "I promised that Rose should stay with them for a day or two. I thought that

smay. "We could do nothing in a day. And we want to do so m

tone of good-humoured banter. "Was Wordsworth a

his. "Aunt Lucy, I may stay

o town again to-morrow, I find, and I will call at Cadogan Mans

cy, you will tire yourself out if you go off shopping

l drive me to the station, and I can take a hansom at Victoria.

oln's Inn by yourself," said Tom teasingly.

ing up from the table. "I have a matter of business to talk ov

ask his opinion on every business matter. He practically managed the estate for her. It seemed very strange to him that she shoul

it. But it was impossible for her to explain. She had determined to

n to go alone to London next day. She talked of it to Tom in

out her will, do you?" sh

Get her to take Maitland, if she won't take one of us. She was looking quite ill this evening, didn't you not

the old people in the village," said Rose, moved to a sudden burst of confidence. "It's different for you, Tom. Y

Tom good-humouredly. "I'm not going to pity you. If

" was Rose's disdainful retort. "Bu

. Aunt Lucy couldn't do without you, and you wouldn't leave her if you could. So what's the use of talking? And as to your being dull, I d

told herself sorrowfully that she must give up all hope of sharing Pauline's flat when Clare went back to dull captivity at Desborough Park. She could not be spare

night, feeling herself a martyr, but determined

ost private papers. She had been reading over again the letter i

tered, Rose felt horribly ashamed at having ever thought of sharing Pauline's flat. And the good-night embrace she gave Miss

h you to-morrow," she begged.

peak playfully. "You silly children, am I not to be trusted to go anywhere alone? I shall start early, and get