"Not from me!" cried Mrs. Stanton, excitedly. "I could not tell him. And there is surely no need to tell him everything. It is enough that the will is found."
"It is not enough," said Aldyth, decidedly. "Guy has a right to know all. Nothing can justify further concealment. If I were you, I would make a full confession to him."
"That I can never do," sobbed her mother. "I could not bear the shame, the exposure."
"Then I will tell him," said Aldyth. "It may not be necessary for others to know, but I must insist upon Guy's being told all."
"You are unkind to me, Aldyth!" cried her mother, passionately. "You do not care how much I suffer."
The words smote Aldyth. Was her proud sense of the wrong done to herself as well as to Guy rendering her pitiless? She remembered her mother's weakness, her recent illness, and the doctor's fear of a relapse, all the suffering which her sin had caused her. She went back and spoke in a softer tone as she bent over her mother.
"Forgive me, mamma, if I seem harsh and cruel. You do not know what this is to me. I would not for the world have had you act so. But it cannot be helped now, and you have suffered greatly. It only remains for us to do all in our power to make amends to Guy. And we must begin by full confession. There is no other way to peace for those who have sinned. It is when we confess and forsake our sin that we find mercy."
"I never meant to do anything so very bad," sobbed Mrs. Stanton; "but I thought it would be so dreadful for us all to be poor. Gladys's prospects would be ruined, and Cecil's education stopped. I am sure I did it for the best."
Aldyth's face grew stern again.
"It can never be well, to do what is wrong," she said, abruptly. Then, feeling that words were of little use, she left the room, carrying the will with her.