were she not to tell it now, such explanation would ever
afterwards be impossible. "Linda, dear, will you read to me," said
her aunt. Then Linda took up the great Bible. "Turn to the eighth and
ninth chapters of Isaiah, my child." Linda did as she was bidden, and
read the two chapters indicated. After that, there was silence for a
few minutes, and then the aunt spoke. "Linda, my child."

"Yes, aunt Charlotte."

"I do not think you would willingly be false to me." Then Linda
turned away her face, and was silent. "It is not that the offence
to me would be great, who am, as we all are, a poor weak misguided
creature; but that the sin against the Lord is so great, seeing that
He has placed me here as your guide and protector." Linda made no
promise in answer to this, but even then she did not tell the tale.
How could she have told it at such a moment? But the tale must now go
untold for ever!

CHAPTER V

A week passed by, and Linda Tressel heard nothing of Ludovic, and
began at last to hope that that terrible episode of the young man's
visit to her might be allowed to be as though it had never been. A
week passed by, during every day of which Linda had feared and had
half expected to hear some question from her aunt which would nearly
crush her to the ground. But no such question had been asked, and,
for aught that Linda knew, no one but she and Ludovic were aware
of the wonderful jump that had been made out of the boat on to the
island. And during this week little, almost nothing, was said to
her in reference to the courtship of Peter Steinmarc. Peter himself
spoke never a word; and Madame Staubach had merely said, in reference
to certain pipes of tobacco which were smoked by the town-clerk in
Madame Staubach's parlour, and which would heretofore have been
smoked in the town-clerk's own room, that it was well that Peter
should learn to make himself at home with them. Linda had said
nothing in reply, but had sworn inwardly that she would never make
herself at home with Peter Steinmarc.

In spite of the pipes of tobacco, Linda was beginning to hope that
she might even yet escape from her double peril, and, perhaps, was
beginning to have hope even beyond that, when she was suddenly shaken
in her security by words which were spoken to her by Fanny Heisse.
"Linda," said Fanny, running over to the gate of Madame Staubach's
house, very early on one bright summer morning, "Linda, it is to be
to-morrow! And will you