as she
descended, had not on her mind any special fear.

When she reached the parlour Madame Staubach was alone there,
standing in the middle of the room. For a moment or two after she
entered, the widow stood there without speaking, and then Linda knew
that there was cause for fear. "Did you want me, aunt Charlotte?" she
said.

"Linda, what were you doing on the morning of the Sabbath before the
last, when I went to church alone, leaving you in bed?"

Linda was well aware now that her aunt knew it all, and was aware
also that Steinmarc had been the informer. No idea of denying the
truth of the story or of concealing anything, crossed her mind for
a moment. She was quite prepared to tell everything now, feeling no
doubt but that everything had been told. There was no longer a hope
that she should recover her aunt's affectionate good-will. But in
what words was she to tell her tale? That was now her immediate
difficulty. Her aunt was standing before her, hard, stern, and cruel,
expecting an answer to her question. How was that answer to be made
on the spur of the moment?

"I did nothing, aunt Charlotte. A man came here while you were
absent."

"What man?"

"Ludovic Valcarm." They were both standing, each looking the other
full in the face. On Madame Staubach's countenance there was written
a degree of indignation and angry shame which seemed to threaten
utter repudiation of her niece. On Linda's was written a resolution
to bear it all without flinching. She had no hope now with her
aunt,--no other hope than that of being able to endure. For some
moments neither of them spoke, and then Linda, finding it difficult
to support her aunt's continued gaze, commenced her defence. "The
young man came when I was alone, and made his way into the house when
the door was bolted. I had locked myself into the kitchen; but when I
heard his voice I opened the door, thinking that it did not become me
to be afraid of his presence."

"Why did you not tell me,--at once?" Linda made no immediate reply to
this question; but when Madame Staubach repeated it, she was obliged
to answer.

"I told him that if he would go, I would forgive him. Then he went,
and I thought that I was bound by my promise to be silent."

Madame Staubach having heard this, turned round slowly, and walked to
the window, leaving Linda in the middle of the room. There she stood
for perhaps half a minute, and then came slowly back again. Linda had
remained wher