one: Do you know, or
can you conceive of any motive which could have actuated this person
to plot against you in this way?"

"I do not."

"Think."

Zillah thought earnestly. She recalled the past, in which Hilda had
always been so devoted; she thought of the dying Earl by whose
bedside she had stood so faithfully; she thought of her deep sympathy
with her when the writings were found in her father's desk; she
thought of that deeper sympathy which she had manifested when Guy's
letter was opened; she thought of her noble devotion in giving up all
for her and following her into seclusion; she thought of their happy
life in that quiet little sea-side cottage. As all these memories
rose before her the idea of Hilda being a traitor seemed more
impossible than ever. But she no longer uttered any indignant
remonstrance.

"I am bewildered," she said. "I can think of nothing but love and
fidelity in connection with her. All our lives she has lived with me
and loved me. I can not think of any imaginable motive. I can imagine
that she, like myself, is the victim of some one else, but not that
she can do any thing else than love me."

"Yet she wrote that letter which is the cause of all your grief. Tell
me," said he, after a pause, "has she money of her own?"

"Yes--enough for her support."

"Is she your sister?"

Zillah seemed startled.

"I do not wish to intrude into your confidence--I only ask this to
gain some light while I am groping in the dark."

"She is not. She is no relation. But she has lived with me all my
life, and is the same as a sister."

"Does she treat you as her equal?"

"Yes," said Zillah, with some hesitation, "that is--of late."

"But you have been her superior until of late?"

"Yes."

"Would you have any objection to tell her name?"

"Yes," said Zillah; "I can not tell it. I will tell this much: Lorton
is an assumed name. It belongs neither to her nor to me. My name is
not Lorton."

"I knew that," said Obed Chute. "I hope you will forgive me. It was
not curiosity. I wished to investigate this to the bottom; but I am
satisfied--I respect your secret. Will you forgive me for the pain I
have caused you?"

Zillah placed her cold hand in his, and said:

"My friend, do not speak so. It hurts me to have you ask my
forgiveness."

Obed Chute's face beamed with pleasure.

"My poor child," he said, "you must go and rest yourself. Go and
sleep; perhaps you will be better for it."

And Zill