thouse. And
it seemed to him, that you were behaving yourself like a friend to that
terrible man."

I reminded her of my having expressed the fear that we had been
needlessly hard on him; and, I added that he had written a letter which
confirmed me in that opinion. She looked, not only disappointed, but even
alarmed.

"I had hoped," she said sadly, "that father was mistaken."

"So little mistaken," I assured her, "that I am going to drink tea with
the man who seems to frighten you. I hope he will ask you to meet--"

She recoiled from the bare idea of an invitation.

"Will you hear what I want to tell you?" she said earnestly. "You may
alter your opinion if you know what I have been foolish enough to do,
when you saw me go to the other side of the cottage."

"Dear Cristel, I know what I owe to your kind interest in me on that
occasion!" Before I could say a word of apology for having wronged her by
my suspicions, she insisted on an explanation of what I had just said.

"Did he mention it in his letter?" she asked.

I owned that I had obtained my information in this way. And I declared
that he had expressed his admiration of her, and his belief in her, in
terms which made it a subject of regret to me not to be able to show what
he had written.

Cristel forgot her fear of our being interrupted. Her dismay expressed
itself in a cry that rang through the wood.

"You even believe in his letter?" she exclaimed. "Mr. Gerard! His writing
in that way to You about Me is a proof that he lies; and I'll make you
see it. If you were anybody else but yourself, I would leave you to your
fate. Yes, your fate," she passionately repeated. "Oh, forgive me, sir!
I'm behaving disrespectfully; I beg your pardon. No, no; let me go on.
When I spoke to him in your best interests (as I did most truly believe)
I never suspected what mischief I had done, till I looked in his face.
Then, I saw how he hated you, and how vilely he was thinking in secret of
me--"

Pure delusion! How could I allow it to go on? I interrupted her.

"My dear, you have quite mistaken him. As I have already said, he
sincerely respects you--and he owns that he misjudged me when he and I
first met."

"What! Is _that_ in his letter too? It's worse even than I feared. Again,
and again, and again, I say it"--she stamped on the ground in the fervor
of her conviction--"he hates you with the hatred that never forgives and
never forgets. You think him a good man. Do yo