s, as he asked plainly, whether it was only suspicion, or really
the truth, that Mary was with child when she left her home?

No answer was given to him. He repeated the question, and insisted on
having one. Was it suspicion, or truth? The reply hissed out at him in
one whispered word--Truth.

Was the child born alive?

The answer came again in the same harsh whisper--Yes: born alive.

What became of it?

She never saw it--never asked about it--never knew. While she replied
thus, her whispering accents changed, and rose sullenly to hoarse,
distinct tones. But it was not till the questioner spoke to her once
more that the smothered fury flashed out into flaming rage. Then,
even as he raised his head and opened his lips, she staggered, with
outstretched arms, up to the table at which she had been reading when he
came in; and struck her bony hands on the open Bible; and swore by the
Word of Truth in that Book, that she would answer him no more.

He rose calmly; and with something of contempt in his look, approached
the table and spoke. But his voice was drowned by hers, bursting from
her in screams of fury. No! no! no! Not a word more! How dare he come
there, with his shameless face and his threatening eyes, and make her
speak of what should never have passed her lips again--never till she
went up to render her account at the Judgment Seat! Relations! let him
not speak to her of relations. The only kindred she ever cared to own,
lay heart-broken under the great stone in the churchyard. Relations! if
they all came to life again this very minute, what could she have to do
with them, whose only relation was Death? Yes; Death, that was father,
mother, brother, sister to her now! Death, that was waiting to take her
in God's good time. What! would he stay on in spite of her? stay after
she had sworn not to answer him another word?

Yes; he was resolved to stay--and resolved to know more. Had Mary left
nothing behind her, on the day when she fled from her home?

Some suddenly-conceived resolution seemed to calm the first fury of
Joanna Grice's passion, while he said those words. She stretched out her
hand quickly, and griped him by the arm, and looked up in his face with
a wicked exultation in her wild eyes.

He was bent on knowing what that ruined wretch left behind her? Well! he
should see for himself!

Between the leaves of Joanna Grice's Bible there was a key, which seemed
to be used as a marker. She took it out, a