A sob came up in Katherine’s throat, and her heart fluttered wildly, for she was thinking of that dark secret from the past which her father had told her about, and she was wondering if the work of to-day would in any sense help to wipe off that old score of wrongdoing which stood to her father’s account.

“It is only one’s duty to help those who are in difficulties,” she said, when she could manage her voice, and still that curious fluttering in her throat.  “I hope Mr. Selincourt is not much the worse for his accident.  I was afraid that he was terribly shaken.  He must have suffered such fearful agony of mind during the time he was being sucked down.”

“He is sleeping now, peacefully as an infant.  Mr. Ferrars, who is with him, says that his pulse is steady and his heart quiet, so it really looks as if the after effects may not be very bad,” Mary answered.  Then she said impulsively:  “I was on the hill last night when you were waiting for the dogs to help you to make the portage.  My heart went out to you then, and I wondered should we ever be friends; but to-day has settled that question so far as I am concerned, and now we must be friends.”

Katherine crimsoned right up to the roots of her hair.  A year ago how happy such words would have made her!  And how glad she would have been of the friendship of Mary Selincourt!  But now all the pleasure in such intercourse was checked and clouded, because she was perforce obliged to sail under false colours.

The rosy flush faded from cheeks, neck, and brow, and her face was white and weary as she answered coldly:  “It is very kind of you to talk of friendship, but I fancy there is too much difference in our lives to admit of much intercourse.  I have to work very hard just now, and I have little or no leisure.”

Mary winced as if Katherine had struck her a blow.  She was not used to having her offers of friendship flouted in this fashion; but she was too much indebted to this girl in the shabby frock to even dream of resenting the treatment of which poor Katherine was already secretly ashamed.

“I know that you have to work very hard,” Mary said gently.  “But if you knew how much I honour you for your unselfish courage, I think you would not refuse to let me see as much of you as your work will allow.”

Katherine had to come down from her poor little pedestal then, but she made her descent gracefully enough.  “If you care to see me at my work, we may even find time for friendship,” she said, smiling bravely, although her face was still very pale; “but work and I are such close comrades that only Sunday finds us apart.”

“Then I will have you and your work all the week, and you without your work on Sundays,” laughed Mary, afterwards saying good night and going back across the river to her father again.

CHAPTER XVII

’Duke Radford’s New Friend