ned board. A sleek black cat balanced himself on her
shoulder, watching the flashing motion of the knife as she passed it
rapidly to and fro on the leather-covered surface of the board.

"Come here," she said; "I want to speak to you."

I noticed, as I approached, that her pretty face was clouded and
anxious. She pushed the cat irritably off her shoulder; she welcomed me
with only the faint reflection of her bright customary smile.

"I have seen John Jago," she said. "He has been hinting at something
which he says happened under your bedroom window this morning. When I
begged him to explain himself, he only answered, 'Ask Mr. Lefrank; I
must be off to Narrabee.' What does it mean? Tell me right away, sir!
I'm out of temper, and I can't wait!"

Except that I made the best instead of the worst of it, I told her what
had happened under my window as plainly as I have told it here. She put
down the knife that she was cleaning, and folded her hands before her,
thinking.

"I wish I had never given John Jago that meeting," she said. "When a
man asks anything of a woman, the woman, I find, mostly repents it if
she says 'Yes.'"

She made that quaint reflection with a very troubled brow. The
moonlight meeting had left some unwelcome remembrances in her mind. I
saw that as plainly as I saw Naomi herself.

What had John Jago said to her? I put the question with all needful
delicacy, making my apologies beforehand.

"I should like to tell _you_," she began, with a strong emphasis on the
last word.

There she stopped. She turned pale; then suddenly flushed again to the
deepest red. She took up the knife once more, and went on cleaning it
as industriously as ever.

"I mustn't tell you," she resumed, with her head down over the knife.
"I have promised not to tell anybody. That's the truth. Forget all
about it, sir, as soon as you can. Hush! here's the spy who saw us last
night on the walk and who told Silas!"

Dreary Miss Meadowcroft opened the kitchen door. She carried an
ostentatiously large Prayer-book; and she looked at Naomi as only a
jealous woman of middle age _can_ look at a younger and prettier woman
than herself.

"Prayers, Miss Colebrook," she said in her sourest manner. She paused,
and noticed me standing under the window. "Prayers, Mr. Lefrank," she
added, with a look of devout pity, directed exclusively to my address.

"We will follow you directly, Miss Meadowcroft," said Naomi.

"I have no desire to intr