r
suspected before. If you want to see a cold-blooded wretch, look at me!"

It was so gravely said, and so perfectly absurd, that I burst out
laughing. She was far too seriously perplexed about herself to take the
smallest notice of my merriment.

"Do you know," she resumed, "that I actually hesitate to write to
Engelman? David! I ought to be whipped at the cart's tail. I don't
believe in Madame Fontaine."

She little knew how that abrupt confession interested me. "Tell me why!"
I said eagerly.

"That's the disgraceful part of it," she answered. "I can't tell you why.
Madame Fontaine spoke charmingly--with perfect taste and feeling. And all
the time some devilish spirit of distrust kept whispering to me, "Don't
believe her; she has her motive!" Are you sure, David, it is only a
little illness that makes her shut herself up in her room, and look so
frightfully pale and haggard? Do you know anything about her affairs?
Engelman is rich; Engelman has a position. Has she got into some
difficulty since she refused him? and could he, by the barest
possibility, be of any use in helping her out of it?"

I declare solemnly that the idea suggested by my aunt never occurred to
me until she asked those questions. As a rejected suitor, Mr. Engelman
could be of no possible use to the widow. But suppose he was her accepted
husband? and suppose the note fell due before Minna was married? In that
case, Mr. Engelman might unquestionably be of use--he might lend the
money.

My aunt's sharp eyes were on me. "Out with it, David!" she cried. "You
don't believe in her, either--and you know why."

"I know absolutely nothing," I rejoined; "I am guessing in the dark; and
the event may prove that I am completely at fault. Don't ask me to
degrade Madame Fontaine's character in your estimation, without an atom
of proof to justify what I say. I have something to propose which I think
will meet the difficulty."

With a strong exercise of self-restraint, my aunt resigned herself to
listen. "Let's hear your proposal," she said. "Have you any Scotch blood
in your veins, David? You are wonderfully prudent and cautious for so
young a man."

I went straight on with what I had to say.

"Send the widow's message to Mr. Engelman, by all means," I proceeded;
"but not by post. I was with him immediately after his offer of marriage
had been refused; and it is my belief that he is far too deeply wounded
by the manner in which Madame Fontaine expressed