of our nephew's daughter.—I am, madam,
yours faithfully,"
"PAMELA HOLCROFT."
"There, darling," Mrs. Holcroft said, as she folded up the letter and returned it to her pocket, "now you know all. What am I to say to Miss Pamela?"
"Say that I can never, never leave you, mother!" Marigold cried passionately. "What a cold, horrid letter to write! As though I could ever live with a nasty old woman like that!"
"Hush, hush! You must not speak so! Think how good and kind your father's aunts always were to him, and he disappointed them more than you can understand! I feel he would wish you to go to them now, and if they should love you, my little daughter, they may learn to forgive him in time. I want you to take advantage of their generous offer, to learn all you possibly can, and grow up a clever, helpful woman, so that whatsoever betides in the future, you may be able to earn your own living. Miss Pamela says she and her sister will provide for you, but my great hope is that they will put you in the way of providing for yourself. It is my wish that you should go to Exeter, because I believe it will be for your ultimate good."
"Oh, mother, mother, do not send me away from you!"
The tears rose to Marigold's eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks. She looked pitifully into her mother's face, and read there a look of mingled regret and determination,—regret at the coming parting, determination that no personal feeling or weakness on her part should mar her little daughter's prospects.
"I do not want to part with you, my darling," Mrs. Holcroft said gently; "I should like to keep you always by my side, but that cannot be. I believe it is my duty to let you go to Exeter to your aunts, and I want you not to put difficulties in the way. Our path in life is rarely smooth, but we can do much to make things easier, if we make up our minds to be cheerful, and contented with our lot. Let God choose. He will show you the way to go, stand by your side, and help you over all difficulties, if you humbly trust in Him. You know that, Marigold?"
"Yes, mother," the child acknowledged; "but—"