p trust, bubbling up from
beneath all passing suspicions, however dark and foul, were in it: but
they were vain.

Baser terror, the parent of baser suspicion, had hardened that woman's
heart for the while; and all she answered was,--

"Get up! what is this foolery?"

"I will not! I will not rise till you have told me."

"What?"

"Whether"--and she forced the words slowly out in a low whisper,
"whether you know--anything of--of--Mr. Thurnall's money--his belt?"

"Is the girl mad! Belt! Money? Do you take me for a thief, wench!"

"No! no! no! Only say you--you know nothing of it!"

"Psha! girl! Go to your school:" and the old woman tried to rise.

"Only say that! only let me know that it is a dream--a hideous dream
which the devil put into my wicked, wicked heart--and let me know that I
am the basest, meanest of daughters for harbouring such a thought a
moment! It will be comfort, bliss, to what I endure! Only say that, and
I will crawl to your feet, and beg for your forgiveness,--ask you to
beat me, like a child, as I shall deserve! Drive me out, if you will,
and let me die, as I shall deserve! Only say the word, and take this
fire from before my eyes, which burns day and night,--till my brain is
dried up with misery and shame! Mother, mother, speak!"

But then burst out the horrible suspicion, which falsehood, suspecting
all others of being false as itself, had engendered in that mother's
heart.

"Yes, viper! I see your plan! Do you think I do not know that you are in
love with that fellow?"

Grace started as if she had been shot, and covered her face with her
hands.

"Yes! and want me to betray myself--to tell a lie about myself, that you
may curry favour with him--a penniless, unbelieving--"

"Mother!" almost shrieked Grace, "I can bear no more! Say that it is a
lie, and then kill me if you will!"

"It is a lie, from beginning to end! What else should it be?" And the
woman, in the hurry of her passion, confirmed the equivocation with an
oath; and then ran on, as if to turn her own thoughts, as well as
Grace's, into commonplaces about "a poor old mother, who cares for
nothing but you; who has worked her fingers to the bone for years to
leave you a little money when she is gone! I wish I were gone! I wish I
were out of this wretched ungrateful world, I do! To have my own child
turn against me in my old age!"

Grace lifted her hands from her face, and looked steadfastly at her
mother. And behold, she