The foster-sisters

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

Then aloud. "I cannot let you take that, Miss Corbet—not till I have Miss Leighton's leave—"

"Wilson, if I have ever done you a good turn, be kind to Miss Leighton!" I whispered.

"I will, I will, and it shall go hard, but I will get you news of her. What shall I tell her?"

"Tell her I was sent away—that they would not let me stay to see her. I am going to Mrs. Deborah."

"Quite right. I'll befriend her, if only to save my poor dear lady from sinning—don't be too hard on her, Miss Corbet. She is in trouble herself."

Then aloud again. "There, you have had time enough, in all conscience."

So pack off.

"No, I don't want any money, Miss—" as I offered her a gold piece I had in my pocket. "There, go. I'd say God bless you, if I dared."

"God bless you, Wilson, and teach you to know and follow Him!" said I.

I followed her down stairs carrying my basket. As I left the Hall, I had just a glimpse of Amabel, flushed with exercise and looking more cheerful than I had seen her for a long time. Oh, for one word. But I dared not linger, and I turned away. Two or three of the men laughed sneeringly as they saw me go forth, and one of them made an insolent remark, whereat Harry, the only footman who had remained behind when Richard left, turned on him and knocked him down into a particularly thorny rosebush.