ing in the interests of the family
name, persuaded Ambrose to try this desperate means of escaping the
ignominy of death on the scaffold? The sheriff and the governor
preserved impenetrable silence until the pressure put on them
judicially at the trial obliged them to speak.

Who was to tell Naomi of this last and saddest of all the calamities
which had fallen on her? Knowing how I loved her in secret, I felt an
invincible reluctance to be the person who revealed Ambrose
Meadowcroft's degradation to his betrothed wife. Had any other member
of the family told her what had happened? The lawyer was able to answer
me; Miss Meadowcroft had told her.

I was shocked when I heard it. Miss Meadowcroft was the last person in
the house to spare the poor girl; Miss Meadowcroft would make the hard
tidings doubly terrible to bear in the telling. I tried to find Naomi,
without success. She had been always accessible at other times. Was she
hiding herself from me now? The idea occurred to me as I was descending
the stairs after vainly knocking at the door of her room. I was
determined to see her. I waited a few minutes, and then ascended the
stairs again suddenly. On the landing I met her, just leaving her room.

She tried to run back. I caught her by the arm, and detained her. With
her free hand she held her handkerchief over her face so as to hide it
from me.

"You once told me I had comforted you," I said to her, gently. "Won't
you let me comfort you now?"

She still struggled to get away, and still kept her head turned from
me.

"Don't you see that I am ashamed to look you in the face?" she said, in
low, broken tones. "Let me go."

I still persisted in trying to soothe her. I drew her to the
window-seat. I said I would wait until she was able to speak to me.

She dropped on the seat, and wrung her hands on her lap. Her downcast
eyes still obstinately avoided meeting mine.

"Oh!" she said to herself, "what madness possessed me? Is it possible
that I ever disgraced myself by loving Ambrose Meadowcroft?" She
shuddered as the idea found its way to expression on her lips. The
tears rolled slowly over her cheeks. "Don't despise me, Mr. Lefrank!"
she said, faintly.

I tried, honestly tried, to put the confession before her in its least
unfavorable light.

"His resolution has given way," I said. "He has done this, despairing
of proving his innocence, in terror of the scaffold."

She rose, with an angry stamp of her foot. Sh