“That depends, Marguerite!--there is another link in this dark chain that I would have explained--the letter you received this evening.” “The letter--oh, God! have mercy on me,” she cried, in a half smothered voice. “Yes, the letter!” repeated Mr. Helmstedt, coolly, with his eyes still fixed steadily upon her pallid countenance that could scarcely bear his gaze. “Oh! I told you--that it--was from an acquaintance--who--confided to me some of her troubles--which--was intended for no other eye but mine. Yes! that was what I told you, Philip,” said Marguerite, confused, yet struggling almost successfully for self-control. “Yes, I know you did, and doubtless told me truly so far as you spoke; but your manner was not truthful, Marguerite. You affected to treat that letter lightly, yet you took care to destroy it; you talked, jested, laughed with unprecedented gayety; your manner completely deceived me, though as I look at it from my present view it was a little overdone. You sang and played, and became Thalia, Allegra, ‘for this night only,’ and when the point toward which all this acting tended, came, and you made your desire known to me, you affected to put it as a playful test of my confidence, a caprice; but when you found your bagatelle treated seriously, and your desire steadily and gravely refused, Marguerite, your acting all was over. And now I demand an explanation of your conduct, for, Marguerite, deception will be henceforth fruitless forever!” “Deception!” “Yes, madam, that was the word I used, purposely and with a full appreciation of the meaning,” said Mr. Helmstedt, sternly. “Deception! Heaven and earth! deception charged by you upon me!” she exclaimed, and then sank down, covering her face with her hands and whispering to her own heart, “I am right--I am right, he must never be told--he would never be just.” “I know that the charge I have made is a dishonoring one, madam, but its dishonor consists in its truth. I requested you to explain that letter; and I await your reply.” “Thus far, Philip, I will explain: that--yes!--that letter was--a connecting link in the chain of circumstances you spoke of--it brought me news of--that one’s peril of which I told you, and made me, still leaves me, how anxious to go to--that one’s help. Could you but trust me?”