She laid her beautiful face close to mine. In a weak voice, and at intervals, I told her everything, but never once mentioning her father, even remotely. Indeed, there was no occasion; for I am certain he knew as little as the innocent girl at my side of that wicked night-work, in which our invalid had sunk so rapidly. I never saw horror and dismay exhibit itself so forcibly on any countenance as it appeared on that lovely face. It touched mine like marble. "What can we do?--what must we do?" she said. "Why did you not tell papa at once?" "I had no proof--he would not have believed me." "But your word--who ever doubted that?" "Her word would have prevailed against mine. Oh! Jessie, Jessie, she is a terrible woman!" "And my mother--my poor, suffering mother! What can her object be? No dove was ever more blameless than poor, dear mamma!" she said, with tender pathos. "Was she not content with what she had done against me? But I will go at once to papa and tell him everything about her." "No," I said, trying to hold her with my feeble hand; "he will not believe you." "Not believe me, Aunt Matty?" "I fear not--Jessie, don't look so wounded! But he would demand your authority, and you would, of course, give me." "Not without your permission." "You would have it; but all might end in her triumph over us both. You remember the letter which came to me, that account of his stewardship? Ask yourself if it was the work of Mr. Lee's own heart." "No, no, I am sure it was not!" "Yet it came on the very next day." "And broke your heart, dear Aunt Matty. I could not understand it. The first lines about money fastened themselves upon me I don't know how. I did not think, in my fright, when Lottie told me that you were ill, about its being a private letter; still I only read that and carried the paper back. What was in the letter I did not know; but I burned it to pacify you." "The rest was only a kind dismissal from the house, Jessie!" "A dismissal from the house! You--you?" "Yes. I am only here now on sufferance," I answered, with feeble bitterness, which ended in a flood of more feeble tears. Jessie was terribly distressed; but she made gentle efforts at soothing me, and at last I sobbed myself into quietness like a child, with my head resting on her shoulder. "But you shall never go--never while I live," she said, with her old queenliness of manner. "I may stand by and see this woman robbing me of the love that was mine, when pride forbids me to cry out; but you, my oldest, my best friend! She must not attempt that." Her eyes sparkled, her beautiful face took a positive expression. How I loved her! "But about my poor mother," she said; "what can we do?" "Wait and watch," I answered. She was very thoughtful, and the look of distress upon her face made my heart ache.