CHAPTER VII.
"Sit down, Hetty, and keep yourself quiet," said Mrs. Armitage.
Her manner had completely changed. A stealthy, fearful look crept into her face. She went on tiptoe to the door to assure herself over again that it was locked. She then approached the window, shut it, fastened it, and drew a heavy moreen curtain across it.
"When one has secrets," she said, "it is best to be certain there are no eavesdroppers anywhere."
She then lit a candle and placed it on the centre of the little table.
Having done this, she seated herself—she didn't care to look at Hetty. She felt as if in a sort of way she had committed the murder herself. The knowledge of the truth impressed her so deeply that she did not care to encounter any eyes for a few minutes.
"Aunt Fanny, why don't you speak to me?" asked the girl at last.
"You are quite sure, child, that you have told me the truth?" said Mrs. Armitage then.
"Yes—it is the truth—is it likely that I could invent anything so fearful?"
"No, it ain't likely," replied the elder woman, "but I don't intend to trust just to the mere word of a slip of a giddy girl like you. You must swear it—is there a Bible in the room?"