child of
wrath, with adder's poison tinder his lips! No, my child! Though we're
poor, we're honest! Let him slander us, rob us, of our good name, send
us to prison, if he will--he cannot rob us of our souls. We'll be
silent; we'll turn the other cheek, and commit our cause to One above
who pleads for the orphan and the widow. We will not strive nor cry,
my child. Oh, no!" And Mrs. Harvey began fussing over the smashed
pie-dish.

"I shall not strive nor cry, mother," said Grace, who had recovered
her usual calm: "but he must have some cause for these strange words.
Do you recollect seeing me with the belt?"

"Belt, what's a belt? I know nothing about belts. I tell you he's a
villain, and a slanderer. Oh, that it should have come to this, to
have my child's fair fame blasted by a wretch that comes nobody knows
where from, and has been doing nobody knows what, for aught I know!"

"Mother, mother! we know no harm of him. If he is mistaken, God
forgive him!"

"If he is mistaken?" went on Mrs. Harvey, still over the pie-dish: but
Grace gave her no answer.

She was deep in thought. She recollected now, that as she had gone up
the path, from the cove on that eventful morning, she had seen Willis
and Thurnall whispering earnestly together; and she recollected
now, for the first time, that there had been, a certain sadness and
perplexity, almost reserve, about Willis ever since. Good Heavens!
could he suspect her too? She would find out that at least; and no
sooner had her mother fussed away, talking angrily to herself, into
the back kitchen, than Grace put on her bonnet and shawl, and went
forth to find the Captain.

In an hour she returned. Her lips were firm set, her cheeks pale, her
eyes red with weeping. She said nothing to her mother, who for her
part did not seem inclined to allude again to the matter.

"Where have you been, child? You look quite poorly, and your eyes
red."

"The wind is very cold, mother," said she, and went into her room. Her
mother looked sharply after her, and muttered to herself.

Grace went in, and sat down on the bed.

"What a coldness this is at my heart!" she said aloud to herself,
trying to smile; but she could not: and she sat on the bedside,
without taking off her bonnet and shawl, her hands hanging listlessly
by her side, her head drooping on her bosom, till her mother called
her to tea: then she was forced to rouse herself, and went out,
composed, but utterly wretched.

Tom w