'It is very simple. She goes to Miss West's, and she does not eat her dinner because she knows she is not welcome to it. It is uncle Bryan's dinner, and this is uncle Bryan's house. Jessie is very proud.'
My mother shook her head. 'She does not go to Miss West's. I have not watched her, because I know that she would discover me, and that it would turn her more against me. But three mornings ago I saw her get into an omnibus which goes to the West-end. What friends can she have there, Chris? And if she has friends, should we not know who they are?'
'If she has friends!' I exclaimed, putting a brave face on the disclosure, although I was inexpressibly hurt at the knowledge that Jessie was keeping a secret from me. 'Do you suspect she has?'
'She must have, Chris.'
I looked at my mother; there was more in her tone than her words implied.
'Go on, mother. You have something more to tell me.'
'It is best you should know, my darling,' said my mother in a tone of inexpressible tenderness, encircling my waist with her arm; it is best you should know, for you are in Jessie's confidence, and she will listen to you when she would not heed me. Yesterday afternoon, as I was walking home--I had been out on an errand for your uncle--a cab passed me, with two persons in it. One was a gentleman, the other was Jessie. Nay, my dear, don't shrink. There is no harm in that; the harm is in keeping it from us, her dearest friends, and in making a secret of it.'
I controlled my agitation, foolishly believing that I could deceive this fondest of mothers.
'Did the cab come to our door?' I asked.
'No, my dear; it did not come down the street. It stopped a few yards in front of me, and the gentleman assisted Jessie out----'