e to the crowd, and I felt I
could speak the words I had been burning to say ever since I saw the
true nature of Mr. Trohm's character exposed.

"Mr. Gryce," said I, flushing scarlet--which I here solemnly declare is
something which has not happened to me before in years, and if I can
help it shall never happen to me again,--"I am interested in what you
say, because yesterday, at his own gateway, Mr. Trohm proposed to me,
and----"

"You did not accept him?"

"No. What do you think I am made of, Mr. Gryce? I did not accept him,
but I made the refusal a gentle one, and--this is not easy work, Mr.
Gryce," I interrupted myself to say with suitable grimness--"the same
thing took place between me and Deacon Spear, and to him I gave a
response such as I thought his presumption warranted. The discrimination
does not argue well for my astuteness, Mr. Gryce. You see, I crave no
credit that I do not deserve. Perhaps you cannot understand that, but it
is a part of my nature."

"Madam," said he, and I must own I thought his conduct perfect, "had I
not been as completely deceived as yourself I might find words of
criticism for this possibly unprofessional partiality. But when an old
hand like myself can listen to the insinuations of a maniac, and repose,
as I must say I did repose, more or less confidence in the statements he
chose to make me, and which were true enough as to the facts he
mentioned, but wickedly false and preposterously wrong in suggestion, I
can have no words of blame for a woman who, whatever her understanding
and whatever her experience, necessarily has seen less of human nature
and its incalculable surprises. As to the more delicate matter you have
been good enough to confide to me, madam, I have but one remark to make.
With such an example of womanhood suddenly brought to their notice in
such a wild as this, how could you expect them, sane or insane, to do
otherwise than they did? I know many a worthy man who would like to
follow their example." And with a bow that left me speechless, Mr. Gryce
laid his hand on his heart and softly withdrew.

EPILOGUE

SOME STRAY LEAFLETS FROM AN OLD DIARY OF ALTHEA KNOLLYS, FOUND BY ME IN
THE PACKET LEFT IN MY CHARGE BY HER DAUGHTER LUCETTA.

I never thought I should do so foolish a thing as begin a diary. When in
my boarding-school days (which I am very glad to be rid of) I used to
see Meeley Butterworth sit down every night of her life over a little
book whic