“Oh, pride, pride,” she whispered to herself, “of how much pain hast thou been the cause.”

Pride had sent her Charlie over the sea without her; pride had separated her brother from the Lily she was sure he loved, as he could never love the maiden to whom he was betrothed; and pride, it seemed, had been at the root of all this young girl’s sorrow.  Blessed Anna Richards—­the world has few like her—­so gentle, so kind, so lovely, and as no one could long be with her and not feel her influence, so Adah, by the touch of the fingers still caressing her, was soothed into peaceful quiet.

When she had grown quite calm, Anna continued:  “You have not told me yet what name to give you, or shall I choose one for you?”

“Oh, if you only would!” and Adah looked up quickly.

Anna began to enjoy this mystery, wondering what name she should choose.  Adah should be Rose Markham, and she repeated it aloud, asking Adah how it sounded.

“If it did not seem so much like deceiving,” Adah said.  “You’ll tell your family it is not my real name, won’t you?”

Anna readily agreed to Adah’s proposal, and then, remembering that all this time she had been sitting in her cloak and fur, she bade her lay them aside.  “Or, stay,” she added, “touch that bell, if you please, and ring Pamelia up.  There’s a little room adjoining this.  I mean to give you that.  You will be so near me, and so retired, too, when you like.  John—­that’s my brother—­occupied it when a boy.  I think it will answer nicely for you.”

Obedient to the ring, Pamelia came, manifesting no surprise when told by Anna to unlock the door and see if the little room was in order for “Mrs. Markham.”

Pamelia cast a rapid glance at Adah, who winced as she heard the new name, and felt glad when Anna added:  “Pamelia, I can trust you not to gossip out of the house.  This young woman’s name is not Markham, but I choose to have her called so.”

Another glance at Adah, more curious than the first, and then Pamelia did as she was bidden, opening the door and saying, as she did so:  “I know the room is in order.  There’s a fire, too; Miss Anna has forgot that Dr. John slept here last night.”

“I do remember now,” Anna replied.  “Mrs. Markham can go in at once.  Pamelia, send lunch to her room, and tell your husband to bring up her trunk.”

Again Pamelia bowed and departed to do her young mistress’ bidding, while Adah entered the pleasant room where Dr. Richards had slept the previous night.

On the marble hearth the remains of a cheerful fire were blazing, while on the mantel over the hearth was a portrait of a boy, apparently ten or twelve years of age, and a young girl, who seemed a few years older.  The girl was Anna.  But the boy, the handsome, smooth-cheeked boy, in his fancy jacket, with that expression of vanity plainly visible about his mouth.  Who was he?  Had Adah any knowledge of him?  Had they met before?  Never that