In a pause, made by Mrs. Gass's draining her cup of tea, Richard North bent forward and opened the communication, speaking in low and confidential tones. "I have come to you thus early for a little information, Mrs. Gass. Will you kindly tell me what were the contents of the paper that was found here on your carpet, the night of Edmund's seizure?" From the look that Mrs. Gass's countenance assumed at the question, it might have been thought that she was about to have a seizure herself. Her eyes grew round, her cheek and nose red. For a full minute she made no answer. "What cause can you have to ask me that, Mr. Richard? _You_ can't know nothing about it." "Yes, I can; and do. I know that such a paper was found; I fear it was a copy of the anonymous letter. But I have come to you for particulars." "My patience!" ejaculated Mrs. Gass. "To think you should have got hold of it at last. Who in the world told you, sir?" "Jelly. But----" "Drat that girl!" warmly interposed Mrs. Gass. "Her tongue is as long as from here to yonder." "But not intentionally, I was about to add. I overheard her say a chance word, and I insisted upon her disclosing to me what she knew. There is no blame due to Jelly, Mrs. Gass." "I say Yes there is, Mr. Richard. What right has she to blab out chance words about other folk's business? Let her stick to her own. That tongue of hers is worse than a steam-engine; once set going, it won't be stopped." "Well, we will leave Jelly. It may be for the better that I should know this. Tell me all about it, my dear old friend." Thus adjured, Mrs. Gass spoke; telling the tale from the beginning. Richard listened in silence. "He denied that it came out of his pocketbook?" was the first remark he made. "Denied it out and out. And then my thoughts turned naturally to Molly Green; for no other stranger had been in the room but them two. He said perhaps she had brought it in her petticoats from the Hall; but I don't think it could have been. I'm afraid--I'm _afraid_, Mr. Richard--that it must have dropped from his pocketbook." Their eyes met: each hesitating to speak out the conviction lying at heart, notwithstanding there had been confidential secrets between them before to-day. Richard was thinking that he ought not to have married Bessy--at least, until it was cleared up. "Why did you not tell me, Mrs. Gass?" "It was in my mind to do so--I said a word or two--but then, you see, I _couldn't_ think it was him that wrote it," was her answer. "Mrs. Cumberland told me she saw the anonymous letter itself; Mr. North showed it her; and that it was not a bit like any handwriting she ever met with. Suppose he is innocent--would it have been right for me to come out with a tale, even to you, Mr. Richard, that he might have been guilty?" On this point Richard said no more. All the talking in the world now could not undo the marriage, and he was never one to reproach uselessly. Mrs. Gass resumed.