ng, and came nearer to her.

"That you, with your youth and your innocence and your candour!--child,
the very idea is impossible. I have known men and women too well to fall
into such an absurdity. Send me away, if you like; I won't intrude my
friendship upon you, but look up now and let me see that you do not
think this gross thing of me."

Molly raised a white face and looked into his--looked into eyes that had
not at all times and in all places been sincere, but were sincere now. A
great rush of warm feeling came over her; a great sore seemed healed,
and then she looked at him with hungry entreaty, as if a soul, shorn of
all beauty, hungry, ragged, filthy, were asking help from another. But
the moment of danger, the moment of salvation passed away.

We confess our sins to God because He knows them already, and we ask for
forgiveness where we know we shall be forgiven.

Indeed, Molly knew almost at once that she had gained another motive for
silence. She could not risk the loss of Edmund's good thought of her;
she cared for him too much--he had defended himself too well.

Edmund saw that she could not speak. He left her, let himself out of the
house, and, forgetful of the fact that he could not possibly afford a
hansom, jumped into one and drove to Mr. Murray's house.

He had recovered his usual calmness by the time he had to speak.

"I have your note," he said, "and I came in consequence."

"Yes," said the lawyer; "I wanted to tell you----"

"Wait a moment. Do you think you need tell me? You see, my share in the
thing really came to an end when I could not finance it. I have several
reasons now why I should like to let it alone."

Murray was astonished. It was Sir Edmund who had started the whole
thing, whose wild guess at the outset was becoming more and more likely
to be proved true. It was he who had spent a quantity of money over the
investigation for years past. The man of business knew how to provoke
speech by silence, and so he remained silent.

"Does further action depend in any way on me?" asked Edmund at last,
without, however, offering the explanation the other wanted.

"No," said Murray quite civilly, but his manner was dry. "I don't see
that it does. I think we can get on for the present."

As he spoke the door opened, and the parlourmaid showed in a tall,
handsome woman in a nurse's dress.

Murray looked from her to Sir Edmund.

"I had wanted you to hear what Nurse Edith had to tell us,