She returned immediately.
“I suppose,” said she, abruptly, confronting Aunt Lucy, “that you are fool enough to believe her ravings?”
“I bring no accusation,” said the old lady, calmly, “If your conscience acquits you, it is not for me to accuse you.”
“But what do you think?” persisted Mrs. Mudge, whose consciousness of guilt did not leave her quite at ease.
“I cannot read the heart,” said Aunt Lucy, composedly. “I can only say, that, pauper as I am, I would not exchange places with the one who has done this deed.”
“Do you mean me?” demanded Mrs. Mudge.
“You can tell best.”
“I tell you what, Aunt Lucy Lee,” said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes blazing with anger, “If you dare insinuate to any living soul that I stole your paltry money, which I don't believe you ever had, I will be bitterly revenged upon you.”
She flaunted out of the room, and Aunt Lucy, the first bitterness of her disappointment over, retired to bed, and slept more tranquilly than the unscrupulous woman who had robbed her.
At a quarter before four Paul started from his humble couch, and hastily dressed himself, took up a little bundle containing all his scanty stock of clothing, and noiselessly descended the two flights of stairs which separated him from the lower story. Here he paused a moment for Aunt Lucy to appear. Her sharp ears had distinguished his stealthy steps as he passed her door, and she came down to bid him good-by. She had in her hands a pair of stockings which she slipped into his bundle.