“Because⸺ You mustn’t blame me,” said Helen, earnestly, lifting her eyes to Mrs. Gregory’s face; “for it made me very unhappy to think of doing it. But he wanted me to leave the door open to-morrow night, so that he could get in and carry off the silver.”
“Is it possible?” exclaimed Mrs. Gregory. “And he wished to implicate you in such a crime?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Helen. “He told me that was what he wanted me to come here for; and then I didn’t want to come at all. But he threatened me if I did not. Then, when he was here last time, I tried to persuade him to give up his design; but he wouldn’t listen to me, and I didn’t dare to say any thing more.”
“You said, Helen,” remarked Mrs. Gregory, “that you never knew about your relations. Can’t you remember any thing that happened when you was a little child?”
“No,” said Helen, “not much; but I think I must have lived in the country once, though I can’t remember when. There was an old woman, very cross, that I used to be with before Mr. Armstrong took me. She used to beat me sometimes.”
“How did she look?” said the lady, feeling a strange interest—for which she found it difficult to account—in the child’s story.
“She was very tall; and she used to look at me—oh! so fiercely!”
“And is there nothing, no little keepsake, that you have, to remind you of those childish days?”
“Yes,” said Helen, “there was one. It was an ivory ring that I have always carried around with me. The tall woman tried to take it away from me one day; but I cried so that she let me keep it.”
“Have you got it with you?” asked Mrs. Gregory, in great agitation.