mashed
his mug for a fancy. And this bringing a smile to her cheek, I went on
to tell how he craved to see Mr. Godwin and grip his hand.

"Oh, if he could see what a noble, handsome man my Richard is!" cries
she. "I do think my heart would ache for pride."

"Why, so it shall," says I, "for your father does intend to come hither
before long."

"He is coming to see my dear husband!" says she, her face aglow with
joy.

"Aye, but he does promise to be most circumspect, and appear as if,
returning from a voyage, he had come but to see how you fare, and will
stay no longer than is reasonably civil."

"Only that," says she, her countenance falling again, "we are to hide
our love, pretend indifference, behave towards this dear father as if he
were nought to me but a friend."

"My dear," says I, "'tis no new part you have to play."

"I know it," she answers hotly, "but that makes it only the worse."

"Well, what would you?"

"Anything" (with passion). "I would do anything but cheat and cozen the
man I love." Then, after some moments' silence o' both sides, "Oh, if I
were really Judith Godwin!"

"If you were she, you'd be in Barbary now, and have neither father nor
lover; is that what you want?" says I, with some impatience.

"Bear with me," says she, with a humility as strange in her as these
new-born scruples of conscience.

"You may be sure of this, my dear," says I, in a gentler tone, "if you
were anything but what you are, Mr. Godwin would not marry you."

"Why, then, not tell him what I am?" asks she, boldly.

"That means that you would be to-morrow what you're not to-day."

"If he told me he had done wrong, I could forgive him, and love him none
the less."

"Your conditions are not the same. He is a gentleman by birth, you but a
player's daughter. Come, child, be reasonable. Ponder this matter but a
moment justly, and you shall see that you have all to lose and nought to
gain by yielding to this idle fancy. Is he lacking in affection, that
you would seek to stimulate his love by this hazardous experiment?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" cries she.

"Would he be happier knowing all?" (She shakes her head.) "Happier if
you force him to give you up and seek another wife?" (She starts as if
flicked with a whip.) "Would _you_ be happier stripped of your
possessions, cast out of your house, and forced to fly from justice with
your father?" (She looks at me in pale terror.) "Why, then, there's
nothing to be won, and wh