"Your reading has not hurt me at all, my dear. No, nothing: only time will cure me." Ethel, who had moved to the window, and was standing at it suddenly burst into a laugh. "I was thinking of that old gentleman's surprise," she said, "when he saw me here. His looks expressed it. Where do you think he had seen me to-day before, Madame Guise?" The mention of the old gentleman--Squire Dobie--aroused Madame's interest. She lifted her languid head quickly. "I do not know." "In Mrs. Bent's best kitchen, stoning raisins. I went into the Dolphin to get something for mamma, and began to help Mrs. Bent to do them, for she said she should be late with her pudding. Old Squire Dobie came in and saw me at them. When he found me at home here at dinner, I know he was puzzled." "What a--strange manner he had;--what curious things he said to Mr. Castlemaine!" spoke Madame, seizing upon the opportunity. "Yes," said Ethel, flushing scarlet. "I thought him very rude." "He seemed to think that--that the young Mr. Anthony I have heard tell of was really killed in secret." "You cannot help people thinking things." "And by Mr. Castlemaine." "It was very wrong of him; it must be very foolish. I wonder papa took it so calmly." "You do not think it could be so then?" "I! Is it likely, Madame Guise?" "But suppose--my dear Miss Ethel, suppose some one were to tell you that it was so: that they had proof of it?" "Proof of what?" "Proof that Mr. Castlemaine did know what became of An--of the Mr. Anthony: proof that harm came to him?" "I should laugh at them," said Ethel. "And not believe it?" "No, never." Ethel left the room with the last words: perhaps to avoid the topic. Madame thought so, and sighed as she looked after her. It was only natural she thought: when we are fond of people we neither care to hear ill spoken of them, nor believe the ill; and Ethel was very fond of Mr. Castlemaine. Charlotte Guise did not wonder: but for this dreadful suspicion, she would have liked him herself. In fact she had insensibly began to like him, in spite of her prejudices, until this new and most convincing proof of his guilt was discovered in his bureau: the search for which had cost her conscience so much to set about, had taxed her fears so cruelly in the act, and was giving her so intense a torment now. "I wonder what will come of it all in the end?" she cried with a slight shiver. "Qui vivre, verra."