ure.

"Yes," continued Mrs. Goddard, "you have every right to know. My
husband," her voice trembled, "was the head of an important firm in
London. I was the only child of his partner. Not long after my father's
death I married Mr. Goddard. He was an extravagant man of brilliant
tastes. I had a small fortune of my own which my father had settled upon
me, independent of his share in the firm. My guardians, of whom my
husband was one, advised me to leave my father's fortune in the concern.
When I came of age, a year after my marriage, I agreed to do it. My
husband--I never knew it till long afterwards--was very rash. He
speculated on the Exchange and tampered with the deposits placed in his
hands. We lived in great luxury. I knew nothing of his affairs. Three
years ago, after we had been married nearly ten years, the firm failed.
It was a fraudulent bankruptcy. My husband fled but was captured and
brought back. It appeared that at the last moment, in the hope of
retrieving his position and saving the firm, he had forged the name of
one of his own clients for a large amount. We had a country place at
Putney which he had given to me. I sold it, with all my jewels and most
of my possessions. I would have given up everything I possessed, but I
thought of Nellie--poor little Nellie. The lawyers assured me that I
ought to keep my own little fortune. I kept about five hundred a year. It
is more than I need, but it seemed very little then. The lawyer who
conducted the defence, such as it was, advised me to go abroad, but I
would not. Then he spoke of Mr. Ambrose, who had educated his son, and
gave me a note to him. I came here and I told Mr. Ambrose my whole story.
I only wanted to be alone--I thought I did right--"

Her courage had sustained her so far, but it had been a great effort. Her
voice trembled and broke and at last the tears began to glisten in her
eyes.

"Does Nellie know?" asked the squire, who had sat very gravely by her
side, but who was in reality deeply moved.

"No--she thinks he--that he is dead," faltered Mrs. Goddard. Then she
fairly burst into tears and sobbed passionately, covering her face and
rocking herself from side to side.

"My dear friend," said Mr. Juxon very kindly and laying one hand upon her
arm, "pray try and calm yourself. Forgive me--I beg you to forgive me for
having caused you so much pain--"

"Do you still call me a friend?" sobbed the poor lady.

"Indeed I do," quoth the squire stout