agitated before, grew all at once calm. She knew that she had done right.
She was glad the die was cast, and that it was out of her power to
retract.

She kneeled at her bedside, and wept and prayed, and then went down and
talked with old Tamar, who was knitting in the shade by the porch.

Then the young lady put on her bonnet and cloak, and walked down to
Gylingden, with an anxious, but still a lighter heart, to see her friend,
Dolly Wylder.

Dolly received her in a glad sort of fuss.

'I'm so glad to see you, Miss Lake.'

'Call me Rachel; and won't you let me call you Dolly?'

'Well, Rachel, dear,' replied Dolly, laughing, 'I'm delighted you're
come; I have such good news--but I can't tell it till I think for a
minute--I must begin at the beginning.'

'Anywhere, everywhere, only if it is good news, let me hear it at once.
I'll be sure to understand.'

'Well, Miss--I mean Rachel, dear--you know--I may tell you now--the
vicar--my dear Willie--he and I--we've been in great trouble--oh, such
trouble--Heaven _only_ knows--' and she dried her eyes quickly--'money,
my dear--' and she smiled with a bewildered shrug--'some debts at
Cambridge--no fault of his--you can't imagine what a saving darling he
is--but these were a few old things that mounted up with interest, my