you to remain here under the circumstances."

"Listen to me, Mr. Miles. I have already
told you I don't want to leave this place.
You think it impossible I should be happy
here, in what you call my ' false position.'
You do not remember how wretched I was
before I came here. In spite of some draw-
backs, I – I have been happier here than I
have ever been before. The servants'
jealousy and vulgarity are but small evils
compared with the great kindness I have
met with from Mrs. Cartaret. I feel that I
am of real use to her. I never felt in the
course of my life that I was of any use to
any one before. I was very nearly going
yesterday, but–  but I consented to stay,
and now I must stay. If it depends upon
myself, Mr. Miles, I cannot leave her. And
if you are kind, you will keep my secret,
and let me fight my own way."

He walked to the window and then to
the mantelpiece: he took up his hat and
set it down again: he could not remain
still; and Maud's eyes, unconsciously, kept
following the large islands which his muddy
boots left upon Mrs. Rouse's carpet.
Suddenly he stopped opposite to her.

"Miss Pomeroy, what you ask is quite
impossible. Forgive me, but I must speak
out. As clergyman of your parish, it would
be sinful in me to let any false delicacy
prevent my doing so. By pursuing the
course you seem bent upon, you are incurring
a great danger; you are imperilling
that which is a woman's most precious
possession – your reputation."

She started up, her cheeks suddenly
a-flame, and looked at him indignantly,
without speaking. He went on at once:

"That woman knows my object in
coming here, and she predicted that I
should find you resolute. I will not insult
you by a repetition of what she said. It is
enough that your persistence in remaining
will be misconstrued. If you will not save
yourself, therefore, by leaving this at once,
quietly and without explanation, as can
easily be managed, I must save you in
spite of yourself. I must tell Mrs. Cartaret all."

"No," said Maud, passionately. " I will
not have it. She will imagine – never mind
what. If you choose to go and tell Sir
Andrew, you can, it may be your duty,
and by to-night's post I will write to him
myself, and say that nothing will ever
induce me to return to his house, and
therefore he had better leave me in peace.
That may be your duty, I repeat, but it
certainly cannot be your duty to interfere
with me, here, and I must insist upon your
not speaking to Mrs. Cartaret."

"I think you forget by what means you
obtained this situation?" said John, speaking
very slowly. " I have clearly a right
to tell Mrs. Cartaret that the certificate
she received in my handwriting had no
reference to the person who entered her
service."

Maud covered her face with her hands,
and burst into tears. At the same instant
the door opened, and Mrs. Cartaret entered.
The housekeeper, afraid that her clerical
bird would escape without matters coming
to a crisis, had only waited to hear Maud's
reiterated declaration that she could not
leave Beckworth by reason of her promise
to some one, and had then hastened up to
her mistress, breathless, bursting with
impatience to communicate as much as she
could understand of what she had overheard,
and almost incoherent in the attempt
to do so. The girl turned out to be some sort
of lady, who had done something dreadful
somewhere, and had run away, and come
here under a false name, and was clearly no
better than she should be. What had Mrs.
Rouse always said? Now, it turned out that
the creature couldn't and wouldn't leave the
house because she had promised Mr. Lowndes
to stay! This last shaft carried home.
What? La misérable had said that? Had
confessed that she had made a promise to
mon fils? that she had a secret understanding
with him? Ah! mais c'est un peu
trop fort! She must see to this. And,
regardless of her dressing-gown and slippers,
she threw a shawl over her grey hair,
and ran down-stairs. As she turned the
handle of the door she caught Miles's last
words.

"What does this mean?" she cried, in
her high treble, walking straight up to the
speaker, and fixing her bright black eyes
upon him. " What does all this mean,
sir? Who is this young woman? She
comes to me with a false character, does
she? Who is she, sir?"

"She will tell you herself, madam,"
murmured the curate, feeling that the
avowal would come better thus.

"Mrs. Cartaret" – Maud brushed the hot
tears away, and strove to speak calmly, as
she turned towards the excited old lady –
"Mrs. Cartaret, I see you already know the
worst, all that you can possibly care to know.
It little matters who I am. I am not what
you have believed me to be. I deceived
you, for I had no other means of getting a