To an idle and shallow young man she had spoken indiscreetly of the young maiden whose orphanage she had promised to cherish and defend, exposing her actions to suspicion and her character to speculation. She had left the spotless name of Margaret Helmstedt a theme of low village gossip. And thus having done as much evil as any foolish woman could well do in an hour, she entered her carriage, and with the solemn conviction of having discharged her duty, drove home to the Bluff. “God defend me, only, from my friends, for of my enemies I can myself take care,” prayed one who seemed to have known this world right well. From that day Margaret Helmstedt, whenever she had occasion to write a letter, took care to turn the key of her room door; and whenever she had occasion to mail one, took equal precaution to give it, unperceived, into the hands of Forrest, with directions that he should drop it into the letter-box at a moment when he should see other letters, from other sources, going in. Poor girl! she was slowly acquiring an art hateful to her soul. And one also that did not avail her greatly. For notwithstanding all her precautions, the report crept about that Miss Helmstedt had a secret correspondent, very much disapproved of by her friends. And in course of time also, the name of this correspondent transpired. And this is the manner in which it happened. Young Simpson, the postmaster, to whom Mrs. Houston had so imprudently given a portion of her confidence, found his curiosity piqued to discover who this forbidden correspondent might be, and after weeks of patient waiting, convinced himself that the letters addressed in a fair Italian hand to a certain person were those dropped into the box by Miss Helmstedt’s messenger, old Forrest. A few more observations confirmed this conviction. Then wishing to gain consequence in the eyes of Mrs. Houston, he availed himself of the first opportunity presented by the presence of that lady at the office to inform her of the discovery he had made. “You are sure that is the name?” inquired the lady, in surprise. “Yes, madam, that is the name, in a regular slanting hand. I always find a letter bearing that name in the box the moment after that old man has been seen about here, and never at any other time.” “Very well; I thank you for your information; but mind! pray do not speak of this matter to any one but myself; for I would not like to have this subject discussed in town,” said Mrs. Houston. “Oh, certainly not, madam! You may rely on me,” replied the young man, who, in half an hour afterward, laughed over the whole affair with a companion, both making very merry over the idea that the wealthy heiress, Miss Helmstedt, should be engaged to one lover and in private correspondence with another.