“Nina, you are certainly a most unmitigated little simpleton! I really have no patience with you,” she remarked. “It was ridiculous for you to think of blotting yourself out like that for Talbot Strangemore. He is not worth it, indeed no man is worth the sacrifice of a woman’s life. I have always despised men, and my nephew’s conduct has only made me dislike them worse. What was he, what kindness had he ever done you, that you should have given up your life for him? I wish he had died before he ever came back to make all this trouble. I am sure I hate him, even if he was my brother’s son!” “So do we all,” Kitty muttered under her breath, but not so low but that Nina caught it. She looked reproachfully at them both. “Oh, Aunt Drusilla, oh, Kitty, please do not talk about my husband like that! I used to love him so much,” she pleaded. “And love him still, eh?” the spinster asked, half-vexedly, half-pityingly. “Oh, no, no, no,” Nina tried to say, but a great sob rose in her throat and choked her. “You need not try to tell me a fib, child. I know just how weak and silly women’s hearts are. Go on loving your husband as much as you like. Perhaps he will turn out more worthy of your love some day. I wish I knew where to write to him now. He ought to come home to you,” Miss Drusilla said, thoughtfully. “No, not for worlds!” Nina gasped, in horror, “Do not send for him, please. I will not stay to meet him!” “Nonsense, child, you need him now. His place is by your side to shield you and protect you,” said the old lady, impressively. Something in the tone and air struck Nina. She looked up inquiringly. “What do you mean?” she asked, and Miss Drusilla felt that no task she had ever undertaken in her life was as hard as that which lay before her now. “I cannot tell her the whole truth. I will temporize with her,” she finally decided, and so, looking as calmly as she could into the pale, sweet face, she said: “I mean that Talbot ought to be here to silence any malicious tongues that may wag over that dying falsehood of Sibyl St. Alban.” There was a minute’s silence. The pale face on the pillow grew, if possible, still paler. “Does any one credit that cruel story?” she asked, faintly, and suddenly Kitty flung herself down on her knees by the bed. “Oh, Miss Nina, darling, you can prove that you did not do it, can’t you, dear?” she cried. “What time was it when you went away that night, because the murder was not committed until midnight, and if you can prove that you went away before that time no one can believe aught against you.” “Indeed, Kitty, I do not know what time it was when I went away. I was so wretched, so humiliated by my own madness that I took no thought of time!” “But after you sent me away, Miss Nina, you went away at _once_--that was the way, wasn’t it, darling?” Kitty asked, anxiously.