to whom you have been so
kind, could put the slightest faith in any such accusations against
you. We are not of much consequence, but we are two women, to whom any
such evil would be a horror. If it is any one connected with us who
has brought you into this painful position, it gives us the more
reason to be indignant and angry. I know now what you meant about the
will. If it was to do over again, I should do just the same; but for
all that, I understand now what you meant. I understand, also, how
much we owe to you, of which, up to yesterday, I was totally unaware.
You ought never to have been asked to take our burden upon your
shoulders. I suppose you ought not to have done it; but all the same,
thank you with all my heart. I don't suppose we ever can do anything
for you to show our gratitude; and indeed I do not believe in paying
back. But in the mean time, thank you--and don't, from any
consideration for us, suffer a stain which belongs to another to rest
upon yourself. You are a clergyman, and your reputation must be clear.
Pardon me for saying so, as if I were qualified to advise you; but it
would be terrible to think that you were suffering such an injury out
of consideration for us.--Gratefully and truly yours,

"LUCY WODEHOUSE."

The conclusion of this letter gave Lucy a good deal of trouble. Her
honest heart was so moved with gratitude and admiration that she had
nearly called herself "affectionately" Mr Wentworth's. Why should not
she? "He has acted like a brother to us," Lucy said to herself; and
then she paused to inquire whether his conduct had indeed arisen from
brotherly motives solely. Then, when she had begun to write
"faithfully" instead, a further difficulty occurred to her. Not thus
lightly and unsolicited could she call herself "faithful," for did not
the word mean everything that words could convey in any human
relationship? When she had concluded it at last, and satisfied her
scruples by the formula above, she laid the letter before her sister.
This event terminated the active operations of the day in the dwelling
of the Wodehouses. Their brother had not asked to see them, had not
interrupted them as yet in their retreat up-stairs, where they were
sedulously waited upon by the entire household. When Miss Wodehouse's
agitation was over, she too began to collect together her books and
personalities, and they ended by a long consultation where they were
to go and what they wer