After an interval she said-- 'It will seem incredible. You've heard of Mr. Dangerfield's proposal, and you've heard how I've received it. Well, listen.' 'Gertrude, dear!' said Lily, who was growing frightened. 'I'm going,' interrupted Miss Chattesworth, 'to tell you my strange, if you will, but not guilty--no, _not_ guilty--secret. I'm no agent now, but simply passive in the matter. But you must first pledge me your sacred word that neither to my father nor to yours, nor to my aunt, nor to any living being, will you ever reveal what I am about to tell you, till I have released you from your promise.' Did ever woman refuse a secret? Well, Lily wavered for a moment. But then suddenly stooping down, and kissing her, she said: 'No, Gertrude, darling--you'll not be vexed with me--but you must not tell me your secret. You have excuses such as I should not have--you've been drawn into this concealment, step by step, unwillingly; but, Gertrude, darling, I must not hear it. I could not look Aunt Becky in the face, nor the kind general, knowing that I was----' She tried to find a word. '_Deceiving_ them, Lily,' said Gertrude, with a moan. 'Yes, Gertrude, darling.' And she kissed her again. 'And it might be to your great hurt. But I thank you all the same from my heart for your confidence and love; and I'm gladder than you'll ever know, Gerty, that they are still the same.' And thus the two girls kissed silently and fervently, and poor Gertrude Chattesworth wept uncomplainingly, looking out upon the dark prospect. 'And you'll tell me, darling, when you're happier, as you soon will be?' said Lily. 'I will--I will indeed. I'm sometimes happier--sometimes quite happy--but I'm very low to-night, Lily,' answered she. Then Lily comforted and caressed her friend. And I must confess she was very curious, too, and nothing but a terror of possessing a secret under such terms, withheld her from hearing Gertrude's confession. But on her way home she thanked Heaven for her resolution, and was quite sure that she was happier and better for it. They were roused by Aunt Becky's knock at the hall-door, and her voice and Dominick's under the window. CHAPTER XXXVII. SHOWING HOW SOME OF THE FEUDS IN CHAPELIZOD WAXED FIERCER, AND OTHERS WERE SOLEMNLY CONDONED. By this time little Dr. Toole had stepped into the club, after his wont, as he passed the Phoenix. Sturk was playing draughts with old Arthur Slowe, and Dangerfield, erect and grim, was looking on the game, over his shoulder. Toole and Sturk were more distant and cold in their intercourse of late, though this formality partook of their respective characters. Toole used to throw up his nose, and raise his eyebrows, and make his brother mediciner a particularly stiff, and withal scornful reverence when they met. Sturk, on the other hand, made a short, surly nod--'twas little more--and, without a word, turned on his heel, with a gruff pitch of his shoulder towards Toole.