A shiver of apprehension seized Edna, and in a frightened tone she ejaculated: "Ma'am!"

"I say, in future you will eat at the table instead of here in this room."

"If you please, Mrs. Murray, I would rather stay here."

"Pray, what possible objection can you have to the dining-room?"

Edna averted her head, but wrung her fingers nervously.

Mrs. Murray frowned, and continued gravely: "Don't be silly, Edna. It is proper that you should go to the table, and learn to eat with a fork instead of a knife. You need not be ashamed to meet people; there is nothing clownish about you unless you affect it. Good-night; I shall see you at breakfast; the bell rings at eight o'clock."

There was no escape, and she awoke next morning oppressed with the thought of the ordeal that awaited her. She dressed herself even more carefully than usual, despite the trembling of her hands; and when the ringing of the little silver bell summoned her to the dining-room, her heart seemed to stand still. But though exceedingly sensitive and shy, Edna was brave, and even self-possessed, and she promptly advanced to meet the trial.

Entering the room, she saw that her benefactress had not yet come in, but was approaching the house with a basket of flowers in her hand; and one swift glance around discovered Mr. Murray standing at the window. Unobserved, she scanned the tall, powerful figure clad in a suit of white linen, and saw that he wore no beard save the heavy but closely-trimmed moustache, which now, in some degree, concealed the harshness about the handsome mouth. Only his profile was turned toward her, and she noticed that, while his forehead was singularly white, his cheeks and chin were thoroughly bronzed from exposure.

As Mrs. Murray came in, she nodded to her young protegee, and approached the table, saying: "Good morning! It seems I am the laggard to-day, but Nicholas had mislaid the flower shears, and detained me. Hereafter I shall turn over this work of dressing vases to you, child. My son, this is your birthday, and here is your button-hole souvenir."

She fastened a few sprigs of white jasmine in his linen coat, and, as he thanked her briefly, and turned to the table, she said, with marked emphasis: "St. Elmo, let me introduce you to Edna Earl."

He looked around, and fixed his keen eyes on the orphan, whose cheeks crimsoned as she looked down and said, quite distinctly: "Good morning, Mr. Murray."

"Good morning, Miss Earl."




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