not the slightest foundation for this slander did
not lessen its acceptance by a certain class; many claimed that it
offered the only plausible solution to the mystery, and must,
therefore, be true.

It was not long before the echoes of these scandals reached Martha's
ears. The gossips dare not affront Miss Jane with their suspicions, but
Martha was different. If they could irritate her by speaking lightly of
her mistress, she might give out some information which would solve the
mystery.

One night a servant of one of the neighbors stopped Martha on the road
and sent her flying home; not angry, but terrified.

"They're beginnin' to talk," she broke out savagely, as she entered
Jane's room, her breath almost gone from her run to the house. "I
laughed at it and said they dare not one of 'em say it to your face or
mine, but they're beginnin' to talk."

"Is it about Barton Holt? have they heard anything from him?" asked
Jane. The fear of his return had always haunted her.

"No, and they won't. He'll never come back here ag'in. The captain
would kill him."

"It isn't about Lucy, then, is it?" cried Jane, her color going.

Martha shook her head in answer to save her breath.

"Who, then?" cried Jane, nervously. "Not Archie?"

"Yes, Archie and you."

"What do they say?" asked Jane, her voice fallen to a whisper.

"They say it's your child, and that ye're afraid to tell who the father
is."

Jane caught at the chair for support and then sank slowly into her seat.

"Who says so?" she gasped.

"Nobody that you or I know; some of the beach-combers and
hide-by-nights, I think, started it. Pokeberry's girl told me; her
brother works in the shipyard."

Jane sat looking at Martha with staring eyes.

"How dare they--"

"They dare do anything, and we can't answer back. That's what's goin'
to make it hard. It's nobody's business, but that don't satisfy 'em.
I've been through it meself; I know how mean they can be."

"They shall never know--not while I have life left in me," Jane
exclaimed firmly.

"Yes, but that won't keep 'em from lyin'."

The two sat still for some minutes, Martha gazing into vacancy, Jane
lying back in her chair, her eyes closed. One emotion after another
coursed through her with lightning rapidity--indignation at the charge,
horror at the thought that any of her friends might believe it,
followed by a shivering fear that her father's good name, for all her
care and suffering, might be smirch