She was astonished; but she answered quickly, though respectfully—
"I am speaking of the six hundred pounds my mamma lent you, from time to time; and which you promised to keep safely for me."
"I promised, my dear," said Mrs. Villars, with well feigned astonishment. "I never said or thought of such a thing; but I will tell you how this mistake arose. I did borrow the sums you mention, from time to time, as you say, and you may remember, when your poor dear mother and I met last." The lightning flashed in her eyes, and she covered them with her hands; but the rain had begun to patter against the window, and the thunder rolled, at longer intervals; as the storm abated, she became bolder, and continued—"Well, at that time, we were very long alone, as, perhaps, you remember. Then she said to me—I remember the very words, and where she was sitting, poor thing—'Caroline,' she said, 'I never had the courage to tell you, that I have often vexed so deeply, to think that, when I married, I accepted a larger portion from our father's generosity than he gave you; and I shall never die happy till I have made it up to you—in order to do that, I shall cancel all your obligations to me, and give you a hundred more to-day.' I begged her to think of her children, and the answer she made was remarkable. 'I would rather leave them honesty than money.' It was so like her, poor thing."
Here she put her handkerchief to her eyes, while Mabel watched her with mingled pity, contempt, and indignation.
"Well, my dear, she went to her old secretary—you remember it, I am sure."—Of course she did, a thousand remembrances clung to every old-fashioned article of that dear home; but duplicity and cunning were before her, and she was too shocked to think of them now—"From that secretary," continued her aunt, "she took a bundle of papers. I saw my own writing, at once, and knew them to be the securities, that is, the written promises I had given her for the money. I stretched out my hand to take them, but she put it back, while she threw the papers in the fire."
"There was no fire," said Mabel, as if thinking aloud.
"No, you are right," said Mrs. Villars, colouring violently, for, from that moment, she saw she was suspected. "I meant to say she burnt them at the taper I had lighted to seal a letter. And now, you see, there has been a little mistake, which I am sorry for; had you spoken before, it might have been avoided; but, perhaps, you divined what is really the case, that if I wished to give you the money, I have not got it by me; and, therefore, I must take advantage of my poor dear sister's generosity."
Mabel did not, for an instant, doubt her aunt's falsehood; but, immediately remembered that she had nothing to plead but her own assertion of her mother's words, unsupported by any evidence. On such proofs, to obtain her money, appeared at once, to be impossible, and no other reason would have led her to expose a relation, to the charge of the meanest subterfuge and falsehood; but, though she said nothing, her whole soul was in her face, and Mrs. Villars writhed under its expression. Hoping to arrange a compromise on good terms, she handed her five sovereigns, saying—
"There, my dear, ask me for more when you want it."
"Thank you," said Mabel, pushing back the money, "I have sufficient for my present wants; but, as I shall be obliged to find a different situation from this," she added, taking up the letter, "I shall be glad if you will allow me to remain here a little while longer."