proved that fact to us, at any rate, beyond a
doubt.

Having arrived at something like a conclusion,
so far, my next great interest was to know what
discoveries Sir Percival had made, after Count
Fosco had given him his information.

"How came you to lose possession of the
letter?" I asked. " What did you do with it,
when you found it in the sand?"

"After reading it once through," she replied,
"I took it into the boat-house with me, to sit
down, and look it over a second time. While I
was reading, a shadow fell across the paper. I
looked up; and saw Sir Percival standing in the
doorway watching me."

'' Did you try to hide the letter?"

"I tried— but he stopped me. ' You needn't
trouble to hide that, he said. ' I happen to
have read it.  I could only look at him,
helplessly— I could say nothing. ' You understand?
he went on; ' I. have read it. I dug it up out
of the sand two hours since, and buried it again,
and wrote the word above it again, and left it
ready to your hands. You can't lie yourself
out of the scrape now. You saw Anne Catherick
in secret yesterday; and you have got her letter
in your hand at this moment. I have not caught
her yet; but I have caught you. Give me the
letter. He stepped close up to me— I was
alone with him, Marian— what could I do? I
gave him the letter."

"What did he say, when you gave it to him?"

"At first, he said nothing. He took me by
the arm, and led me out of the boat-house, and
looked about him, on all sides, as if he was
afraid of our being seen or heard. Then,
he clasped his hand fast round my arm, and
whispered to me— ' What did Anne Catherick
say to you yesterday? I insist on hearing
every word, from first to last.'"

"Did you tell him?"

"I was alone with him, Marian— his cruel
hand was bruising my arm— what could I do?"

"Is the mark on your arm still? Let me see
it?"

"Why do you want to see it?"

"I want to see it, Laura, because our endurance
must end, and our resistance must begin,
to-day. That mark is a weapon to strike him
with. Let me see it now— I may have to swear
to it, at some future time.

"Oh, Marian, don' t look so! don't talk so!
It doesn't hurt me, now!"

"Let me see it!"

She showed me the marks. I was past grieving
over them, past crying over them, past
shuddering over them. They say we are either
better than men, or worse. If the temptation
that has fallen in some women's way, and made
them worse, had fallen in mine, at that
moment— Thank God! my face betrayed nothing
that his wife could read. The gentle, innocent,
affectionate creature thought I was frightened
for her and sorry for her— and thought no more.

"Don't think too seriously of it, Marian,"
she said, simply, as she pulled her sleeve down
again. " It doesn't hurt me, now."

"I will try to think quietly of it, my love,
for your sake.— Well! well! And you told him
all that Anne Catherick had said to you— all
that you told me?"

"Yes; all. He insisted on it— I was alone
with him I— could conceal nothing."

"Did he say anything when you had done?"

"He looked at me, and laughed to
himself, in. a mocking, bitter way. ' I mean to
have the rest out of you,' he said; ' do you
hear?— the rest,' I declared to him solemnly
that I had told him everything I knew. ' Not
you!' he answered; 'you know more than you
choose to tell. Won't you tell it? You shall!
I'll wring it out of you at home, if I can't wring
it out of you, here.' He led me away by a
strange path through the plantation— a path
where there was no hope of our meeting you—
and he spoke no more, till we came within sight
of the house. Then he stopped again, and said,
' Will you take a second chance, if I give it to
you? Will you think better of it, and tell me
the rest?' I could only repeat the same words
I had spoken before. He cursed my obstinacy,
and went on. and took me with him to the house.
' You can't deceive me,' he said; ' you know
more than you choose to tell. I'll have your
secret out of you; and I'll have it out of that
sister of yours, as well. There shall be no more
plotting and whispering between you. Neither
you nor she shall see each other again till you
have confessed the truth. I'll have you watched
morning, noon, and night, till you confess the
truth.' He was deaf to everything I could say.
He took me straight up-stairs into my own room.
Fanny was sitting there, doing some work for
me; and he instantly ordered her out. ' I'll take
good care you're not mixed up in the conspiracy,'
he said. ' You shall leave this house to-day,
If your mistress wants a maid, she shall have
one of my choosing.' He pushed me into the
room, and locked the door on me— he set that
senseless woman to watch me outside— Marian!
he looked and spoke like a madman. You may
hardly understand it— he did indeed."

"I do understand it, Laura. He is mad—
mad with the terrors of a guilty conscience.
Every word you have said makes me positively
certain that when Anne Catherick left you
yesterday, you were on the eve of discovering a
secret, which might have been your vile
husband's ruin and he thinks you have discovered
it. Nothing you can say or do, will quiet that
guilty distrust, and convince his false nature of
your truth. I don't say this, my love, to alarm
you. I say it to open your eyes to your position,
and to convince you of the urgent necessity of
letting me act, as I best can, for your protection,
while the chance is our own. Count
Fosco's interference has secured me access to
you to-day; but he may withdraw that
interference to-morrow. Sir Percival has already
dismissed Fanny, because she is a quick-witted
girl, and devotedly attached to you; and has
chosen a woman to take her place, who cares
nothing for your interests, and whose dull
intelligence lowers her to the level of the watchdog