"Oh, I don't know; it seems so dreadful."
"It is rather dreadful, dear; I admit that. If you go and tell your father and Lady Kathleen about me, and about what I have just confessed to you, I shall have a very uncomfortable time. I shall be thoroughly and completely ruined, but in my ruin I shall pull you down too, Bridget, from the pedestal which you now occupy. It would be easy for me to put this letter back where Lady Kathleen will be able to lay her hands on it; in that case she will read it, and your father will know everything. I shall be ruined, and you will have a very unpleasant time. You must choose now what you will do; shall we both go on appearing what we are not? I, a modest, good-natured little girl, who never did an underhand trick in my life, and you—you, Biddy, the soul, the essence of what an Irishman calls honor."
"Oh, don't," said Bridget, "you make my eyes burn; you make me feel so small and wicked. Janet, why do you tempt me so awfully? Janet, I wish—I wish that I had never, never known you."
"My dear, I can't echo your wish. I am glad that I have met you, for you can be very useful to me; but now you have got to choose; shall I put the letter back in Lady Kathleen's room, or shall I tear it up?"
"But, even if you do tear it up," said Bridget, "the evil day is only delayed. When my aunt does not reply to Mrs. Freeman's letter, she will soon write her another, and Aunt Kathleen will perhaps find out that you took the letter."
"I don't think she will; she is the kind of erratic person who won't in the least remember where she put her letter, and not having a clew, why should she suspect me of taking it?"
"But Mrs. Freeman will write again."
"When she does there will be time enough to consider the right steps to take. She won't write for a week or a fortnight, and a great deal can happen in that time. If the worst comes to the worst, it will be quite possible for me to obtain possession of her next letter."
"O Janet, I can't listen to you; your suggestions are too dreadful."