ns for wanting to see Corp that you are unacquainted
with," he said.

"Oh, I am sure of it!" replied Grizel, scornfully. She had been hoping
until now, but there was no more hope left in her.

"May I ask what it is that my oldest friend accuses me of? Perhaps you
don't even believe that I was Captain Ure?"

"I am no longer sure of it."

"How you read me, Grizel! I could hoodwink the others, but never you.
I suppose it is because you have such an eye for the worst in
anyone."

It was not the first time he had said something of this kind to her;
for he knew that she suspected herself of being too ready to find
blemishes in others, to the neglect of their better qualities, and
that this made her uneasy and also very sensitive to the charge.
To-day, however, her own imperfections did not matter to her; she was
as nothing to herself just now, and scarcely felt his insinuations.

"I think you were Captain Ure," she said slowly, "and I think you did
it, but not as the boy imagines."

"You may be quite sure," he replied, "that I would not have done it
had there been the least risk. That, I flatter myself, is how you
reason it out."

"It does not explain," she said, "why you kept the matter secret."

"Thank you, Grizel! Well, at least I have not boasted of it."

"No, and that is what makes me----" She paused.

"Go on," said he, "though I can guess what agreeable thing you were
going to say."

But she said something else: "You may have noticed that I took the boy
aside and questioned him privately."

"I little thought then, Grizel, that you suspected me of being an
impostor."

She clenched her hands again; it was all so hard to say, and yet she
must say it! "I did not. I saw he believed his story. I was asking him
whether you had planned his coming with it to Mrs. McLean's house at
that dramatic moment."

"You actually thought me capable of that!"

"It makes me horrid to myself," she replied wofully, "but if I thought
you had done that I could more readily believe the rest."

"Very well, Grizel," he said, "go on thinking the worst of me; I would
not deprive you of that pleasure if I could."

"Oh, cruel, cruel!" she could have replied; "you know it is no
pleasure; you know it is a great pain." But she did not speak.

"I have already told you that the boy's story is true," he said, "and
now you ask me why I did not shout it from the housetops myself.
Perhaps it was for your sake, Grizel; perhaps it was to s