As Mrs. Fenwick had said, the truth is so much more real
when it comes from things that are near. And then she had so often
heard the character of Sam Brattle described,--the man who was now in
prison as a murderer! And she herself had given lessons in singing to
Agnes Pope, who was now in some sort accused of aiding the thieves.
And she herself had asked Agnes whether it was not foolish for her to
be hanging about the farmyard, outside her master's premises, with
Sam Brattle. It was all brought very near to her!

Before that day was over she was telling the story to Captain
Marrable. She had of course told it to her aunt, and they had
been discussing it the whole morning. Mr. Gilmore's name had been
mentioned to Captain Marrable, but very little more than the name.
Aunt Sarah, however, had already begun to think whether it might
not be prudent to tell cousin Walter the story of the half-formed
engagement. Mary had expressed so much sympathy with her cousin's
wrongs, that aunt Sarah had begun to fear that that sympathy might
lead to a tenderer feeling, and aunt Sarah was by no means anxious
that her niece should fall in love with a gentleman whose chief
attraction was the fact that he had been ruined by his own father,
even though that gentleman was a Marrable himself. This danger might
possibly be lessened if Captain Marrable were made acquainted with
the Gilmore affair, and taught to understand how desirable such a
match would be for Mary. But aunt Sarah had qualms of conscience
on the subject. She doubted whether she had a right to tell the
story without leave from Mary; and then there was in truth no real
engagement. She knew indeed that Mr. Gilmore had made the offer more
than once; but then she knew also that the offer had at any rate not
as yet been accepted, and she felt that on Mr. Gilmore's account as
well as on Mary's she ought to hold her tongue. It might indeed be
admissible to tell to a cousin that which she would not tell to an
indifferent young man; but, nevertheless, she could not bring herself
to do, even with so good an object, that which she believed to be
wrong.

That evening Mary was again walking on the towing-path beside the
river with her cousin Walter. She had met him now about five times,
and there was already an intimacy between them. The idea of cousinly
intimacy to girls is undoubtedly very pleasant; and I do not know
whether it is not the fact that the better and the purer is the girl,