“Delaney said, ‘Yes,’ now, as I saw, quite troubled, and wishing himself out of it, I dare say. “‘And he knew he was in rags, starved, dying, and he left him?’ continued Darthea, ‘He left him--to die.’ “‘Yes; but--’ “‘No matter. I must hear all--all!’ she cried sharply--‘all! I am the person most concerned.’ “‘Darthea!’ then exclaimed Miss Wynne, alarmed, I suppose, at her wild manner and breaking voice. “But Darthea went on. ‘This is my business, madam. You are sure, sir? This is no time to trifle. I--I am--I must know! I must know! Would you say this to Captain Wynne were he here? Answer me, sir!’ “‘Certainly I would, Miss Peniston.’ “‘Mistress Wynne,’ said Darthea, rising, ‘I have been brought here to let a stranger see my--my weakness. It is plain. Did you think I could hide it, madam? Pardon me, sir. You have done me a cruel service. I--I thank you. I bid you good-evening, Mistress Wynne. Was there no other way, no kinder way, to tell me? Will you take me home, Jack? I--I am tired.’ “We had all risen with her at the beginning of this last speech, I troubled, Miss Wynne very red, and only fit to say over and over, ‘Darthea! Darthea!’ Mr. Delaney annoyed, and lacking knowledge of the situation; all of us awkward and confused save Darthea, who passed out into the hall, followed by Miss Wynne, and saying, as she went forth, ‘I will never forgive you, madam, never! never! You are a wicked old woman! I shall never speak to you again. I did not think it.’ “I walked in silence beside her to Mrs. Peniston’s home. ‘Thank you, Jack,’ said she, in a sweet, low voice. ‘You did not know, did you, of this sad story?’ “‘Yes, dear lady, but of this disgusting plot, no.’ “‘But why did you, who are my friend, and Mr. Hugh Wynne, and all of you, leave me in the dark as to this--this man?’ “I said quickly that it was not well to have told her until Mr. Delaney could be found. He had but just now come. She had seemed to trust Captain Wynne’s story; Hugh’s was but the hearsay of a man just out of a deadly fever. We had waited. “As I spoke, she stood with her calash bonnet fallen back, clear to see by the full moonlight, and looking with intent face across Arch street, as it might be with envy of the untroubled dead of generations who lay around the meeting-house. As I ended, she said: “‘I have been a fool, Jack, but I loved him; indeed I did. Is there more? I know Hugh hates him. Is there more?’ “‘Too much, too much, Darthea,’ I said. “‘Then come in. I must hear all--all.’ And she knocked impatiently. “Presently we were in the parlour. ‘Fetch a light,’ she said to the black who opened for us. When we were alone and seated, she said quietly: ‘Jack, you are my only friend. I do trust _you_--oh, entirely. Now what is it? I must know all. Why has Hugh Wynne been silent? It is not like him.’