“Nothing.”
“You admit it, then?”
“I neither admit nor deny it!”
“Margaret, this will never do. Are you aware that you seriously imperil, nay, more, that you gravely compromise your good name?”
Her pale cheek grew paler than before, the tightly-clasped fingers trembled, the compressed lips sprang quivering apart, and then closed more firmly than ever. It had occurred to her to say: “But this correspondence is solely a business affair, with one of whom I have no personal knowledge whatever.” But then came the reflection: “If I give them this explanation, this ever so slight clue, these worldly-wise people will follow it up until they unravel the whole mystery, and I shall have proved myself a cowardly traitor to her confidence. No, I must be dumb before my accusers!”
“You do not speak, Margaret.”
“I have nothing to say, sir!”
“Ah, dear Heaven! I see that I must not ‘prophesy smooth things’ to you, my girl. I must not spare the truth! Listen, then, Miss Helmstedt: Your name has become a byword in the village shops! What now will you do?”
It was on her pallid lips to say: “I will trust in God;” but she said it only in her heart, adding: “I must not even insist upon my innocence; for if they believe me, they will be forced to find the right track to this scent.”
“Margaret Helmstedt, why do you not answer me?”