comparable to such a declaration as that, I can only
say that the case in point is not producible
from the stores of my reading. I thought of
the Mothers' Small-Clothes. I thought of the
Sunday-Sweetheart-Supervision. I thought of
the other Societies, too numerous to mention,
all built up on this man as on a tower of strength.
I thought of the struggling Female Boards,
who, so to speak, drew the breath of their
business-life through the nostrils of Mr.
Godfrey—of that same Mr. Godfrey who had just
reviled our good work as a " nuisance"—and
just declared that he wished he was at the
uttermost ends of the earth when he found
himself in our company! My young female
friends will feel encouraged to persevere, when
I mention that it tried even my discipline
before I could devour my own righteous indignation
in silence. At the same time, it is only
justice to myself to add, that I didn't lose a syllable
of the conversation. Rachel was the next to
speak.

"You have made your confession," she said.
"I wonder whether it would cure you of your
unhappy attachment to me, if I made mine?"

He started. I confess I started too. He
thought, and I thought, that she was about to
divulge the mystery of the Moonstone.

"Would you think, to look at me," she went
on, "that I am the wretchedest girl living?
It's true, Godfrey. What greater wretchedness
can there be than to live degraded in your own
estimation? That is my life now."

"My dear Rachel! it's impossible you can
have any reason to speak of yourself in that way!"

"How do you know I have no reason?"

"Can you ask me the question! I know it,
because I know you. Your silence, dearest,
has never lowered you in the estimation of your
true friends. The disappearance of your
precious birthday gift may seem strange; your
unexplained connexion with that event may
seem stranger still——"

"Are you speaking of the Moonstone, Godfrey?"

"I certainly thought that you referred——"

"I referred to nothing of the sort. I can
hear of the loss of the Moonstone, let who will
speak of it, without feeling degraded in my own
estimation. If the story of the Diamond ever
comes to light, it will be known that I accepted
a dreadful responsibility; it will be known that
I involved myself in the keeping of a miserable
secret—but it will be as clear as the sun at
noonday that I did nothing mean! You have
misunderstood me, Godfrey. It's my fault for
not speaking more plainly. Cost me what it
may, I will be plainer now. Suppose you were
not in love with me? Suppose you were in
love with some other woman?"

"Yes?"

"Suppose you discovered that woman to be
utterly unworthy of you? Suppose you were
quite convinced that it was a disgrace to you to
waste another thought on her? Suppose the
bare idea of ever marrying such a person made
your face burn, only with thinking of it?"

"Yes?"

"And, suppose, in spite of all that—you
couldn't tear her from your heart? Suppose
the feeling she had roused in you (in the time
when you believed in her) was a feeling not
to be bidden? Suppose the love this wretch
had inspired in you——? Oh, how can I
find words to say it in! How can I make
a man understand that a feeling which horrifies
me at myself, can be a feeling that fascinates me
at the same time? It's the breath of my life,
Godfrey, and it's the poison that kills me—both
in one! Go away! I must be out of my mind
to talk as I am talking now. No! you mustn't
leave me—you mustn't carry away a wrong
impression. I must say, what is to be said in my
own defence. Mind this! He doesn't know—
he never will know, what I have told you. I
will never see him—I don't care what happens
—I will never, never, never see him again!
Don't ask me his name! Don't ask me any
more! Let's change the subject. Are you
doctor enough, Godfrey, to tell me why I feel
as if I was stifling for want of breath? Is there
a form of hysterics that bursts into words
instead of tears? I dare say! What does it
matter? You will get over any trouble I have
caused you, easily enough now. I have dropped
to my right place in your estimation, havn't I?
Don't notice me! Don't pity me! For God's
sake, go away!"

She turned round on a sudden, and beat her
hands wildly on the back of the ottoman. Her
head dropped on the cushions; and she burst
out crying. Before I had time to feel shocked
at this, I was horror-struck by an entirely
unexpected proceeding on the part of Mr.
Godfrey. Will it be credited that he fell on his
knees at her feet?—on both knees, I solemnly
declare! May modesty mention that he put
his arms round her next? And may reluctant
admiration acknowledge that he electrified her
with two words?

"Noble creature!"

No more than that! But he did it with one
of the bursts which have made his fame as a
public speaker. She sat, either quite thunder-struck,
or quite fascinated—I don't know
which—without even making an effort to
put his arms back where his arms ought to
have been. As for me, my sense of propriety
was completely bewildered. I was so painfully
uncertain whether it was my first duty to close
my eyes, or to stop my ears, that I did neither.
I attribute my being still able to hold the
curtain in the right position for looking and
listening, entirely to suppressed hysterics. In
suppressed hysterics, it is admitted, even by
the doctors, that one must hold something.

"Yes," he said, with all the fascination of
his evangelical voice and manner, "you are a
noble creature! A woman who can speak the
truth, for the truth's own sake—a woman who
will sacrifice her pride, rather than sacrifice an
honest man who loves her—is the most priceless
of all treasures. When such a woman marries,
if her husband only wins her esteem and regard,