Zillah started back and looked at Mrs. Hart in utter wonder.
"I know," said she at last, "that you don't like Hilda, but I feel hurt when you use such language about her. She is my oldest and dearest friend. She is my sister virtually. I have known her all my life, and know her to her heart's core. She is incapable of any dishonorable action, and she loves me like herself."
All Zillah's enthusiastic generosity was aroused in defending against Mrs. Hart's charge a friend whom she so dearly loved.
Mrs. Hart sadly shook her head.
"My dear child," said she, "you know I would not hurt your feelings for the world. I am sorry. I will say nothing more about _her_, since you love her. But don't you feel that you are in a very false position?"
"But what can I do? There is the difficulty about the handwriting. And then it has gone on so long."
"Write to him at all hazards," said Mrs. Hart, "and tell him every thing."
Zillah shook her head.
"Well, then--will you let me?"
"How can I? No; it must be done by myself--if it ever is done; and as to writing it myself--I can not."