"I wonder you never told all this to-day, Hetty Armitage. Well, I'm sorry for that poor Mr. Everett. Oh, dear, what will not our passions lead us to; to think that two young gentlemen should come to this respectable house, and that it should be the case of Cain and Abel over again--one rising up and slaying the other." Hetty, who had been kneeling all this time, now rose. Her face was ghastly--her words came out in strange pauses. "It wasn't Mr. Everett," she said. "Good Heavens! Hetty," exclaimed her aunt, springing also to her feet, and catching the girl's two hands within her own--"It wasn't Mr. Everett!--what in the world do you mean?" "What I say, Aunt Fanny--the man who killed Mr. Frere was Mr. Awdrey. Our Mr. Awdrey, Aunt Fanny, and I could die for him--and no one must ever know--and I saw him this evening, and--and he has forgotten all about it. He doesn't know a bit about it--not a bit. Oh, Aunt Fanny, I shall go quite mad, if you don't promise to help me to keep my secret." CHAPTER VII. "Sit down, Hetty, and keep yourself quiet," said Mrs. Armitage. Her manner had completely changed. A stealthy, fearful look crept into her face. She went on tiptoe to the door to assure herself over again that it was locked. She then approached the window, shut it, fastened it, and drew a heavy moreen curtain across it. "When one has secrets," she said, "it is best to be certain there are no eavesdroppers anywhere." She then lit a candle and placed it on the centre of the little table. Having done this, she seated herself--she didn't care to look at Hetty. She felt as if in a sort of way she had committed the murder herself. The knowledge of the truth impressed her so deeply that she did not care to encounter any eyes for a few minutes. "Aunt Fanny, why don't you speak to me?" asked the girl at last. "You are quite sure, child, that you have told me the truth?" said Mrs. Armitage then. "Yes--it is the truth--is it likely that I could invent anything so fearful?" "No, it ain't likely," replied the elder woman, "but I don't intend to trust just to the mere word of a slip of a giddy girl like you. You must swear it--is there a Bible in the room?" "Oh, don't, Aunt, I wish you wouldn't." "Stop that silly whining of yours, Hetty; what do your wishes matter one way or the other? If you've told me the truth an awful thing has happened, but I won't stir in the matter until I know it's gospel truth. Yes, there's your Testament--the Testament will do. Now, Hetty Armitage, hold this book in your hand, and say before God in heaven that you saw Mr. Robert Awdrey kill Mr. Horace Frere. Kiss the book, and tell the truth if you don't want to lose your soul." Hetty trembled from head to foot. Her nature was impressionable--the hour--the terrible excitement she had just lived through--the solemn, frightened expression of her aunt's face, irritated her nerves to the last extent. She had the utmost difficulty in keeping herself from screaming aloud.