ry to say, this is not the worst
of it. By some underhand means, of which I am quite ignorant, Mr.
Armadale's simplicity was imposed on; and, when application was made
secretly to my reference in London, it was made, Mr. Midwinter, through
your friend."

Midwinter suddenly rose from his chair and looked at her. The
fascination that she exercised over him, powerful as it was, became a
suspended influence, now that the plain disclosure came plainly at
last from her lips. He looked at her, and sat down again, like a man
bewildered, without uttering a word.

"Remember how weak he is," pleaded Miss Gwilt, gently, "and make
allowances for him as I do. The trifling accident of his failing to find
my reference at the address given him seems, I can't imagine why, to
have excited Mr. Armadale's suspicion. At any rate, he remained in
London. What he did there, it is impossible for me to say. I was quite
in the dark; I knew nothing: I distrusted nobody; I was as happy in my
little round of duties as I could be with a pupil whose affections I
had failed to win, when, one morning, to my indescribable astonishment,
Major Milroy showed me a correspondence between Mr. Armadale and
himself. He spoke to me in his wife's presence. Poor creature, I make no
complaint of her; such affliction as she suffers excuses everything. I
wish I could give you some idea of the letters between Major Milroy and
Mr. Armadale; but my head is only a woman's head, and I was so confused
and distressed at the time! All I can tell you is that Mr. Armadale
chose to preserve silence about his proceedings in London, under
circumstances which made that silence a reflection on my character. The
major was most kind; his confidence in me remained unshaken; but
could his confidence protect me against his wife's prejudice and his
daughter's ill-will? Oh, the hardness of women to each other! Oh, the
humiliation if men only knew some of us as we really are! What could I
do? I couldn't defend myself against mere imputations; and I couldn't
remain in my situation after a slur had been cast on me. My pride
(Heaven help me, I was brought up like a gentlewoman, and I have
sensibilities that are not blunted even yet!)--my pride got the better
of me, and I left my place. Don't let it distress you, Mr. Midwinter!
There's a bright side to the picture. The ladies in the neighborhood
have overwhelmed me with kindness; I have the prospect of getting pupils
to teach; I am spared the