I begged that I might tell her everything, and that I might begin from the day when I came to my place. I did so. I told her all, and very much in the same way that I have just been writing it now. She listened to me with great attention, and at parts of what I told her, I could see her countenance change very much indeed. When I had done, she said, “Fanny, you have told me that which has shocked me very much. I can say nothing further to you till I have spoken to Mr. Morgan; meantime you must be silent, and go on as usual.” Mr. Morgan was at that time from home, and not expected for some days. Meanwhile, Mrs. Morgan had missed several bottles of wine from the cellar. She had a distinct knowledge of three bottles that were not in their places. The morning after his arrival he did not go to London as usual. He and my mistress were talking together in the study for a long time. I knew well what they were talking about, and so flurried did I feel, that I could hardly get on with my work. At length I met mistress as she was going up-stairs. She said she was coming to bid me go into the study; and her manner was so kind that I obeyed her without fear. My master, too, spoke very kindly to me. I found that my mistress had written to tell him what had been passing at home in his absence, and that he, chancing to be at Dudley, which is only a short distance from Birmingham, had gone there to make further inquiry about me; that he had been at the school, had seen the matron, and had also seen my aunt. All that he had heard about me had satisfied him, and convinced him that what I had told my mistress was nothing but the truth. “Is this your handkerchief, Fanny?” said my master, taking up one from a side table. “Yes, sir, it is,” I said, unfolding it, “and here is my name marked; it was given to me by a favorite little schoolfellow, and I feared I had lost it.”—“Where do you think I found this handkerchief, Fanny?”—“Indeed, sir, I can’t tell; but, thank you, sir, for I am so glad it is found.” “I found it in the wine-cellar.” I must have looked very much alarmed, for my mistress said kindly, “Don’t look so frightened, Fanny.” My master rang the bell: it was answered by Mary Wild. “Stay here,” he said; “and, Fanny, go and tell the nurse to come down.” When the nurse entered, he rang the bell again. No one came. Indeed, there was no one to come but the cook; and that not being _her_ bell, she did not think of answering it. “Shall I tell her, sir?” said Mary Wild, who, as well as the nurse, now beginning to suspect something was wrong, turned very pale. “No!” said my master, angrily, “no one shall leave the room.” Just then the door opened, and the cook entered. The plausible smooth face she had put on was gone in an instant, on seeing what was the state of things. After a moment’s silence, he began “This handkerchief,” he said, “though marked with Fanny’s name, was not put in the wine-cellar by her.” He looked sternly at the cook—“Silence!” he said,