"There's no time! there's no time!" she cried at length. "How are we to find out? And if we knew all about it, what could we do? O Letty! what am I to do?"
"Anyhow, Mary dear, you can't be to blame! One would think you fancied yourself accountable for Cousin Godfrey!"
"I am accountable for him. He has done more for me than any man but my father; and I know what he does not know, and what the ignorance of will be his ruin. I know that one of the best men in the world"—so in her agony she called him—"is in danger of being married by one of the worst women; and I can't bear it—I can't bear it!"
"But what can you do, Mary?"
"That's what I want to know," returned Mary, with irritation. "What am I to do? What am I to do?"
"If he's in love with her, he wouldn't believe a word any one—even you—told him against her."
"That is true, I suppose; but it won't clear me. I must do something."
She threw herself on the couch with a groan.
"It's horrid!" she cried, and buried her face in the pillow.
All this time Letty had been so bewildered by Mary's agitation, and the cause of it was to her so vague, that apprehension for her cousin did not wake. But when Mary was silent, then came the thought that, if she had not so repulsed him—but she could not help it, and would not think in that direction.