esley. In such an emergency she ought to do
for Harry Annesley more than a girl in common circumstances would be
justified in doing for her lover. Harry was maligned, ill-used, and
slandered. Her mother had been induced to call him a scamp, and to give
as her reason for doing so an account of a transaction which was
altogether false, though she no doubt had believed it to be true.

As she thought of all this she resolved that it was her duty to write to
her lover, and tell him the story as she had heard it. It might be most
necessary that he should know the truth. She would write her letter and
post it,--so that it should be altogether beyond her mother's
control,--and then would tell her mother that she had written it. She at
first thought that she would keep a copy of the letter and show it to
her mother. But when it was written,--those first words intended for a
lover's eyes which had ever been produced by her pen,--she found that she
could not subject those very words to her mother's hard judgment.

Her letter was as follows:

"DEAR HARRY,--You will be much surprised at receiving a letter from me
so soon after our meeting last night. But I warn you that you must not
take it amiss. I should not write now were it not that I think it may be
for your interest that I should do so. I do not write to say a word
about my love, of which I think you may be assured without any letter. I
told mamma last night what had occurred between us, and she of course
was very angry. You will understand that, knowing how anxious she has
been on behalf of my cousin Mountjoy. She has always taken his part, and
I think it does mamma great honor not to throw him over now that he is
in trouble. I should never have thrown him over in his trouble, had I
ever cared for him in that way. I tell you that fairly, Master Harry.

"But mamma, in speaking against you, which she was bound to do in
supporting poor Mountjoy, declared that you were the last person who had
seen my cousin before his disappearance, and she knew that there had
been some violent struggle between you. Indeed, she knew all the truth
as to that night, except that the attack had been made by Mountjoy on
you. She turned the story all round, declaring that you had attacked
him,--which, as you perceive, gives a totally different appearance to the
whole matter. Somebody has told her,--though who it may have been I
cannot guess,--but somebody has been endeavoring to do you all the
misch