o you," she answered, "about something that happened
while you were paying a visit in the neighborhood of Perth."

The dawning surprise in Mrs. Glenarm's face became intensified into
an expression of distrust. Her hearty manner vanished under a veil
of conventional civility, drawn over it suddenly. She looked at Anne.
"Never at the best of times a beauty," she thought. "Wretchedly out of
health now. Dressed like a servant, and looking like a lady. What _does_
it mean?"

The last doubt was not to be borne in silence by a person of Mrs.
Glenarm's temperament. She addressed herself to the solution of it with
the most unblushing directness--dextrously excused by the most winning
frankness of manner.

"Pardon me," she said. "My memory for faces is a bad one; and I don't
think you heard me just now, when I asked for your name. Have we ever
met before?"

"Never."

"And yet--if I understand what you are referring to--you wish to speak
to me about something which is only interesting to myself and my most
intimate friends."

"You understand me quite correctly," said Anne. "I wish to speak to you
about some anonymous letters--"

"For the third time, will you permit me to ask for your name?"

"You shall hear it directly--if you will first allow me to finish what
I wanted to say. I wish--if I can--to persuade you that I come here as a
friend, before I mention my name. You will, I am sure, not be very sorry
to hear that you need dread no further annoyance--"

"Pardon me once more," said Mrs. Glenarm, interposing for the second
time. "I am at a loss to know to what I am to attribute this kind
interest in my affairs on the part of a total stranger."

This time, her tone was more than politely cold--it was politely
impertinent. Mrs. Glenarm had lived all her life in good society, and
was a perfect mistress of the subtleties of refined insolence in her
intercourse with those who incurred her displeasure.

Anne's sensitive nature felt the wound--but Anne's patient courage
submitted. She put away from her the insolence which had tried to sting,
and went on, gently and firmly, as if nothing had happened.

"The person who wrote to you anonymously," she said, "alluded to a
correspondence. He is no longer in possession of it. The correspondence
has passed into hands which may be trusted to respect it. It will be put
to no base use in the future--I answer for that."

"You answer for that?" repeated Mrs. Glenarm. She suddenly lea