ourse you make me ask what the sword is."

"And am I bound to satisfy your curiosity?"

"You told me, just before my cousin came here, that if I asked any
question you would answer me."

"And I am to understand that you are asking such a question now?"

"Yes;--if it will not offend you."

"But what if it will offend me,--offend me greatly? Who likes to be
inquired into?"

"But you courted such inquiry from me."

"No, Clara, I did not do that. I'll tell you what I did. I gave you
to understand that if it was needful that you should hear about
me and my antecedents,--certain matters as to which Mr. Belton
had been inquiring into in a manner that I thought to be most
unjustifiable,--I would tell you that story."

"And do so without being angry with me for asking."

"I meant, of course, that I would not make it a ground for
quarrelling with you. If I wished to tell you I could do so without
any inquiry."

"I have sometimes thought that you did wish to tell me."

"Sometimes I have,--almost."

"But you have no such wish now?"

"Can't you understand? It may well be that one so much alone as
I am,--living here without a female friend, or even acquaintance,
except yourself,--should often feel a longing for that comfort which
full confidence between us would give me."

"Then why not--"

"Stop a moment. Can't you understand that I may feel this, and yet
entertain the greatest horror against inquiry? We all like to tell
our own sorrows, but who likes to be inquired into? Many a woman
burns to make a full confession, who would be as mute as death before
a policeman."

"I am no policeman."

"But you are determined to ask a policeman's questions?"

To this Clara made no immediate reply. She felt that she was acting
almost falsely in going on with such questions, while she was in fact
aware of all the circumstances which Mrs. Askerton could tell;--but
she did not know how to declare her knowledge and to explain it. She
sincerely wished that Mrs. Askerton should be made acquainted with
the truth; but she had fallen into a line of conversation which did
not make her own task easy. But the idea of her own hypocrisy was
distressing to her, and she rushed at the difficulty with hurried,
eager words, resolving that, at any rate, there should be no longer
any doubt between them.

"Mrs. Askerton," she said, "I know it all. There is nothing for you
to tell. I know what the sword is."

"What is it that you know?"

"