theft, and yet, by neither word nor sign, betray remorse or
guilt?--could behold the innocent suffering, the fearful misery of
suspicion, loss of character, without the power of clearing himself, and
stand calmly, heedlessly by--only proving by your hardened and
rebellious temper that all was not right within--Ellen, can this
be true?"

"Yes!" was the reply, but with such a fearful effort that her slight
frame shook as with an ague: "thank God that it is known! I dared not
bring down the punishment on myself; but I can bear it."

"This is mere mockery, Ellen: how dare I believe even this poor evidence
of repentance, with the recollection of your past conduct? What were the
notes you found?"

Ellen named them.

"Where are they?--This is but one, and the smallest."

Ellen's answer was scarcely audible.

"Used them--and for what?"

There was no answer; neither then nor when Mrs. Hamilton sternly
reiterated the question. She then demanded:--

"How long have they been in your possession?"

"Five or six weeks;" but the reply was so tremulous it carried no
conviction with it.

"Since Robert told his story to your uncle, or before?"

"Before."

"Then your last answer was a falsehood, Ellen: it is full seven weeks
since my husband addressed the household on the subject. You could not
have so miscounted time, with such a deed to date by. Where did you
find them?"

Ellen described the spot.

"And what business had you there? You know that neither you nor your
cousins are ever allowed to go that way to Mrs. Langford's cottage, and
more especially alone. If you wanted to see her, why did you not go the
usual way? And when was this?--you must remember the exact day. Your
memory is not in general so treacherous."

Again Ellen was silent.

"Have you forgotten it?"

She crouched lower at her aunt's feet, but the answer was audible--"No."

"Then answer me, Ellen, this moment, and distinctly: for what purpose
were you seeking Mrs. Langford's cottage by that forbidden path,
and when?"

"I wanted money, and I went to ask her to take my trinkets--my watch,
if it must be--and dispose of them as I had read of others doing, as
miserable as I was; and the wind blew the notes to my very hand, and I
used them. I was mad then; I have been mad since, I believe: but I would
have returned the whole amount to Robert if I could have but parted with
my trinkets in time."

To describe the tone of utter despair, the recklessnes