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Marion shuddered at the bare thought. She was tired too, and over-excited by her several days’ travelling. Cissy was engrossed by her own letter, and did not for a moment or two notice poor Marion’s face of despondency and distress.

Suddenly looking up to tell some little piece of news, in which her young cousin might take interest, she was startled by the girl’s expression. “May, my dear child, whatever is the matter? Have you had news from home?” enquired she anxiously.

“Oh, no,” answered Marion, “at least, not exactly. Nothing but what I knew before.”

But the ice once broken, the impulse to confide her trouble to kind, sympathising Cissy, was too strong to be resisted, and in another minute Mrs. Archer was in possession of all the facts of the case.

She listened attentively, only interrupting Marion by little soft murmurs of pity for her anxiety. And when she had heard the whole she agreed with her cousin that it certainly would be very awful to have to apply to Mr. Vere, only she “really didn’t see what else was to be done.”