"Oh, no!" answered Skaife, looking equally amazed at this abrupt question--being, as he was, totally ignorant of the recent events; "I allude to that poor girl, Mary Burns, whom I have placed in safety from further insult, at the request of Mr. Tremenhere, as business prevented his leaving this neighbourhood himself." "It is kindly and rightly done by both," said Dorcas, scarcely knowing what she should next say--then added, without farther consideration of how far it might be prudent to inform Tremenhere of all--"But I may be pardoned for regretting that Mr. Tremenhere should not have been occupied elsewhere, as the events of the past few days threaten more painful results, I fear, than he anticipated when engaging in them." "Good heavens! what do you mean, madam?" he asked, starting up aghast. Skaife sat like one petrified; something painful was paralyzing his faculties; he could not speak at first. Tremenhere glanced at him, after the first exclamation had escaped him. "I beg pardon," he said, in agitation. "I should, perhaps, be an importunate witness. I will go," and he prepared to do so. "No, stay; pray, remain, Mr. Skaife," cried Dorcas. "I am glad you are here: you may perhaps exert your influence as a clergyman, as well as a friend, with Mr. Tremenhere." Women who have never loved overlook and ignore many penalties attached to such chains round the heart; they are like a felon's irons, resounding with every step we take, and galling somewhere, especially when but little hope is linked with them. Such was poor Skaife's case, and something now whispered him, that that _little_ would soon be lost. Her next words confirmed this fear; for, neither of them answering her last speech, she continued hastily, as if resolved to utter all the worst at once, addressing herself to Miles--"You are perhaps not aware, Mr. Tremenhere, that your most imprudent--most unfortunate meetings of late, with Miss Dalzell, have been discovered, and reported to all, but first to her uncle and guardian--my brother." "I am aware of that," he articulated through his set teeth. Skaife felt cold at heart, and he felt, too, the blood deserting his cheek. For an instant a movement of indignation arose against Miles, as if he had deceived him; then the justice of the man triumphed, and bitter as his regret, his awakening regret, was--for he felt some painful revelation was about taking place--he exonerated the other from all wrong towards himself, ignorant as he was of his affection for Minnie, and, even if he had been acquainted with it, bound by no friendship or honour to him, to act otherwise than his inclinations dictated. "All is known," continued Dorcas, in a sad tone; "and my heaviest grief is, that her uncle should have taken, I fear, so ill-advised a step as the one of coercion with Minnie." "Coercion!" exclaimed both Miles and Skaife in a breath.