"And have told her so, perhaps?"
"No; I never did, and I never will. She called the old woman, Yates, grandmother; but I know better than that, for I know where her grandchild is this very minute."
"You know her grandchild?"
"Yes, I do, and a prettier creature never lived."
"You know her, and will tell me?"
"Indeed, I will do nothing of the sort," answered Margaret, for she had thrown off the jaunty abbreviation of her name. "There is something about all this that puzzles me. People that I never expected to see again keep crossing my path like ghosts, and somehow most of them have something to do with that time. Why can't the whole thing rest? I'm sure that poor old woman, Yates, has had her punishment, and I don't want to talk about what I don't understand."
"You are wise," said Closs, whose face had lost all its cheerfulness; "there is no good in even thinking of a dead past, and, as you say, that poor old woman has her punishment. I am glad you have said nothing of these things to my sister, or Lady Clara."
"Why should I?" said Margaret, with shrewd good sense: "what good would it do? In fact, what do I know? I only hope no such trouble will ever come to this house."
"Heaven forbid!" said Closs, fervently, and the two parted.