man whom no one else would consent to touch. Oh, oh! they talk about
repentance and a change of heart! If some one or something would only
change mine! But there is no hope of that! no hope of my ever being
anything else than what I am: a selfish, wilful, mercenary girl."

Nor was this mood a mere transitory one. That same night she made a
discovery which increased her apprehension almost to terror. This was
nothing less than the fact that Eleanore had been keeping a diary of
the last few weeks. "Oh," she cried in relating this to me the next day,
"what security shall I ever feel as long as this diary of hers remains
to confront me every time I go into her room? And she will not consent
to destroy it, though I have done my best to show her that it is a
betrayal of the trust I reposed in her. She says it is all she has to
show in the way of defence, if uncle should ever accuse her of treachery
to him and his happiness. She promises to keep it locked up; but what
good will that do! A thousand accidents might happen, any of them
sufficient to throw it into uncle's hands. I shall never feel safe for a
moment while it exists."

I endeavored to calm her by saying that if Eleanore was without malice,
such fears were groundless. But she would not be comforted, and seeing
her so wrought up, I suggested that Eleanore should be asked to trust it
into my keeping till such time as she should feel the necessity of using
it. The idea struck Mary favorably. "O yes," she cried; "and I will
put my certificate with it, and so get rid of all my care at once."
And before the afternoon was over, she had seen Eleanore and made her
request.

It was acceded to with this proviso, that I was neither to destroy nor
give up all or any of the papers except upon their united demand. A
small tin box was accordingly procured, into which were put all the
proofs of Mary's marriage then existing, viz.: the certificate, Mr.
Clavering's letters, and such leaves from Eleanore's diary as referred
to this matter. It was then handed over to me with the stipulation
I have already mentioned, and I stowed it away in a certain closet
upstairs, where it has lain undisturbed till last night.

Here Mrs. Belden paused, and, blushing painfully, raised her eyes to
mine with a look in which anxiety and entreaty were curiously blended.

"I don't know what you will say," she began, "but, led away by my
fears, I took that box out of its hiding-place last evening and,
no