bad woman, Letty."

"I never heard you say such a hard word of anybody before, Mary! It
frightens me to hear you."

"It's a true word of her, Letty."

"How can you be so sure?"

Mary was silent. There was that about Letty that made the maiden shrink
from telling the married woman what she knew. Besides, in so far as Tom
had been concerned, she could not bring herself, even without
mentioning his name, to talk of him to his wife: there was no evil to
be prevented and no good to be done by it. If Letty was ever to know
those passages in his life, she must hear them first in high places,
and from the lips of the repentant man himself!

"I can not tell you, Letty," she said. "You know the two bonds of
friendship are the right of silence and the duty of speech. I dare say
you have some things which, truly as I know you love me, you neither
wish nor feel at liberty to tell me."

Letty thought of what had so lately passed between her and her cousin
Godfrey, and felt almost guilty. She never thought of one of the many
things Tom had done or said that had cut her to the heart; those had no
longer any existence. They were swallowed in the gulf of forgetful
love--dismissed even as God casts the sins of his children behind his
back: behind God's back is just nowhere. She did not answer, and again
there was silence for a time, during which Mary kept walking about the
room, her hands clasped behind her, the fingers interlaced, and twisted
with a strain almost fierce.

"There's no time! there's no time!" she cried at length. "How are we to
find out? And if we knew all about it, what could we do? O Letty! what
_am_ I to do?"

"Anyhow, Mary dear, _you_ can't be to blame! One would think you
fancied yourself accountable for Cousin Godfrey!"

"I _am_ accountable for him. He has done more for me than any man but
my father; and I know what he does not know, and what the ignorance of
will be his ruin. I know that one of the best men in the world"--so in
her agony she called him--"is in danger of being married by one of the
worst women; and I can't bear it--I can't bear it!"

"But what can you do, Mary?"

"That's what I want to know," returned Mary, with irritation. "What
_am_ I to do? What _am_ I to do?"

"If he's in love with her, he wouldn't believe a word any one--even
you--told him against her."

"That is true, I suppose; but it won't clear me. I must do something."

She threw herself on the couch with a groan.

"It's