‘You don’t hurt me,’ said Susie, with the smile of a martyr. ‘Oh, Miss Spencer, let us leave it alone. You see what he says. He will explain, if you insist, but he would rather not explain. Don’t you trust him enough for that?’ ‘Trust him!’ said Elly. ‘I trust him so much that, if he sent me word to go to him and marry him to-morrow, I would do it. I trust him so that I don’t believe it, oh, not a word,’ the girl cried. And then she threw herself upon Susie, clasping her wrists as she tried, trembling, to resume her work. ‘Oh, tell me, what does he mean--what does he mean? What can his father be to me?’ ‘Elly,’ said Mr. Cattley, ‘don’t you see how hard you are upon her? Take what Jack says, or let him explain for himself. I will go to him and get his explanation, if you wish--but why torture _her_?’ Elly shot a vivid glance from the curate to Susie, who sat with her head bent over her work, her needle stumbling wildly in her trembling hands. ‘You think a great deal of sparing her, Mr. Cattley. Aunt Mary says----’ Elly was in so great distress, so excited, so crossed and thwarted, so uncertain and unhappy, that to wound some one else was almost a relief to her. But she stopped short before she shot her dart. ‘I am sure she says nothing that is unkind,’ said the curate, firmly; but his very firmness betrayed the sense of a doubt. Mrs. Egerton had been his idol all this time, and was he going to desert her? Could she by any possibility think that he was deserting her? His own mind was too much confused and troubled on his own account to be clear.