why_ I am
talking to _you_ like this. But there is something so _sympathetic_ in
your very _atmosphere_--and seeing _him_ so _unexpectedly_ brought it
all _back_--and it seemed as if I _must_ talk to _someone_, or I should
_shriek_." (Myrtle Forsyth was often just upon the point of
"shrieking") "And he was _so_ glad to see me--and when I _told_ him I
never _believed_ a _word_-- But you see, _leaving_ the way he _did_--"

"Well," said Miss Satterly rather unsympathetically, "and how did he
leave, then?"

Miss Forsyth twisted her watch chain and hesitated. "I really ought
_not_ to say a _word_--if you really don't _know_--what he _did_--"

"If it's to his discredit," said the schoolma'am, looking straight at
her, "I certainly don't know. It must have been something awful,
judging from your tone. Did he"--she spoke solemnly--"did he
_mur-r_der ten people, old men and children, and throw their bodies
into--a _well_?"

It is saying much for Miss Forsyth that she did not look as
disconcerted as she felt. She did, however, show a rather catty look
in her eyes, and her voice was tinged faintly with malice. "There are
_other_ crimes--beside--_murder_," she reminded. "I won't tell _what_
it was--but--but _Will_ found it necessary to _leave in the night_! He
did not even come to tell _me_ goodbye, and I have--but now we have met
by _chance_, and I could _explain_--and so," she smiled tremulously at
the schoolma'am, "I _know_ you can _understand_--and you will not
_mention_ to _anyone_ what I have told you. I'm too _impulsive_--and I
felt _drawn_ to you, somehow. I--I would _die_ if I thought any _harm_
could come to Will because of my _confiding_ in you. A woman," she
added pensively, "has so _much_ to bear--and this has been very
_hard_--because it was not a thing I could _talk over_--not even with
my own _mother_!" Miss Forsyth had the knack of saying very little
that was definite, and implying a great deal. This method saved her
the unpleasantness of retraction, and had quite as deep an effect is if
she came out plainly. She smiled confidingly down at the schoolma'am
and went off to waltz with Bert Rogers, apparently quite satisfied with
what she had accomplished.

Miss Satterly sat very still, scarce thinking consciously. She stared
at Weary and tried to imagine him a fugitive from his native town, and
in spite of herself wondered what it was he had done. It must be
something very bad, and she shrank fr