ng. Your groundless jealousy entirely
misled you. It was left for me by a man whom nobody knew, and
must have been some petition I suppose. I ought not to have
forgiven you so easily, for it was unjustifiable to destroy a
letter in that way from some absurd suspicion; but you owned
your folly so frankly that it disarmed me."

I sighed deeply, but made no answer.

The next morning, at breakfast, Edward asked Henry if he knew
how the row had begun, which took place in the gallery during
the conclusion of his speech.

"Some one called you names, I believe," Henry carelessly
answered; "and one of our people resented it. That was all."

"Do you know who it was that took up my cause in that way?"
said Edward.

"Old James, the coachman, I believe," answered Henry.

Old James had known me from a baby--had taught me to ride; he
had always been much attached to me, and I could easily
understand his anger at the horrible imputation cast upon me;
but I trembled from head to foot at the idea that in his very
indignation he would spread the report, and, above all, that
if Edward spoke to him he would repeat it. I did not feel
courage to speak to him myself on the subject, and, therefore,
as usual, I turned to Henry for assistance. I whispered to him
a few words, and he immediately left the room.

"What have you sent Henry about?" my uncle asked.

The question was a simple one, but at the moment I could not
find an answer to it; and as Alice fixed her large calm eyes
upon me, I coloured and stammered out something unintelligible
about ordering the horses. She looked at me steadily for an
instant, and then taking up her knitting she worked on in
silence. I was copying out some music, and for a quarter of an
hour there was no other sound in the room but the scratching
of my pen and the rustling of Mr. Middleton's and Edward's
newspapers. When Henry returned I felt to colour again, and
breathed more freely when he took up a third newspaper and sat
down by the fire. After a few minutes were elapsed I went to
the pianoforte and began playing. Henry got up and joined me.

"All is right," he said, "about James, but the sooner you
leave this place the better. There are all sorts of stories
about. They will soon die a natural death; but your absence
would be very desirable."

"Heaven knows I do not wish to stay here. But how can I make
Edward and my uncle go?"

"I will try to persuade my sister, what is, in fact, true,
that,