to be a nameless thing, and she's no right to stick a moral
clock in her face, and deceive the country in such a way. If she wasn't
of a bad stock at the outset she was bad in the planten, and if she
wasn't bad in the planten, she was bad in the growen, and if not in the
growen, she's made bad by what she's gone through since.'

'But I have another reason for knowing it idn' hers,' said Mrs. Leat.

'Ah! I know whose it is then--Miss Aldclyffe's, upon my song!'

''Tis the colour of hers, but I don't believe it to be hers either.'

'Don't you believe what they d' say about her and him?'

'I say nothen about that; but you don't know what I know about his
letters.'

'What about 'em?'

'He d' post all his letters here except those for one person, and they
he d' take to Budmouth. My son is in Budmouth Post Office, as you know,
and as he d' sit at desk he can see over the blind of the window all
the people who d' post letters. Mr. Manston d' unvariably go there wi'
letters for that person; my boy d' know 'em by sight well enough now.'

'Is it a she?'

''Tis a she.'

'What's her name?'

'The little stunpoll of a fellow couldn't call to mind more than that
'tis Miss Somebody, of London. However, that's the woman who ha' been
here, depend upon't--a wicked one--some poor street-wench escaped from
Sodom, I warrant ye.'

'Only to find herself in Gomorrah, seemingly.'

'That may be.'

'No, no, Mrs. Leat, this is clear to me. 'Tis no miss who came here to
see our steward last night--whenever she came or wherever she vanished.
Do you think he would ha' let a miss get here how she could, go away how
she would, without breakfast or help of any kind?'

Elizabeth shook her head--Mrs. Crickett looked at her solemnly.

'I say I know she had no help of any kind; I know it was so, for the
grate was quite cold when I touched it this morning with these fingers,
and he was still in bed. No, he wouldn't take the trouble to write
letters to a girl and then treat her so off-hand as that. There's a tie
between 'em stronger than feelen. She's his wife.'

'He married! The Lord so 's, what shall we hear next? Do he look married
now? His are not the abashed eyes and lips of a married man.'

'Perhaps she's a tame one--but she's his wife still.'

'No, no: he's not a married man.'

'Yes, yes, he is. I've had three, and I ought to know.'

'Well, well,' said Mrs. Leat, giving way. 'Whatever may be the truth
on't I trust Providence wi