Her voice in itself was musical and caressing; but its pronunciation was curiously deliberate, suggesting the meticulous caution of one who was feeling her way through the many snares of the parts of speech.
“That is so,” said Gilead. “It is for what we exist.”
“I owe my information,” said the visitor, “to the lady in whose humble abode I have taken a temporary refuge.”
“May I ask her name?” said Gilead. “I should be glad to recall the occasion and the nature of the services which procured us this testimony.”
“With favour, sir,” said the young lady, “I would rather not reveal it at present, even to you. I have reason to believe I may be followed and spied, and the apprehension makes me nervous. I would rather not, if you see no objection.”
“None whatever,” said Gilead.
“Whoever she is,” continued Miss Limner, “she spoke in that way of you that I saw at once I could do no better than confide to your hands, if you would accept of it, the very delicate business about which I have come to consult you.”
“If you will acquaint me of its nature,” said Gilead, “I can the better estimate our capacities for dealing with it.”
The young lady sighed.
“I am sure you are very good,” she said. “I had better begin at the beginning, hadn’t I, and tell you who I am?”