"That would be the worst of all. That would make a talk. And, after all, perhaps he was not so very much to blame. Yes! he was. But he behaved well to me as far as that goes," said she, suddenly recollecting his speech when Mr. Sheepshanks came up in the Towers' Park—"Don't stir, you have done nothing to be ashamed of."
"That's true. A quarrel between men which drags a woman's name into notice is to be avoided at any cost. But sooner or later I must have it out with Preston. He shall find it not so pleasant to have placed my daughter in equivocal circumstances."
"He didn't place me. He didn't know I was coming, didn't expect to meet me either time; and would far rather not have taken the letter I gave him if he could have helped himself."
"It's all a mystery. I hate to have you mixed up in mysteries."
"I hate to be mixed up. But what can I do? I know of another mystery which I'm pledged not to speak about. I cannot help myself."
"Well, all I can say is, never be the heroine of a mystery that you can avoid, if you can't help being an accessory. Then, I suppose, I must yield to your wishes and let this scandal wear itself out without any notice from me?"
"What else can you do under the circumstances?"
"Ay; what else, indeed? How shall you bear it?"
For an instant the quick hot tears sprang into her eyes; to have everybody—all her world, thinking evil of her, did seem hard to the girl who had never thought or said an unkind thing of them. But she smiled as she made answer,—
"It's like tooth-drawing, it will be over some time. It would be much worse if I really had been doing wrong."