“Then, I do!”
“Ha! what is it you say, Margaret?”
“The truth.”
“What?” demanded the preacher, “you can not surely mean that Brother Stevens hath been a wolf in sheep's clothing—that he hath been a hypocrite.”
“Alas!” thought Margaret Cooper—“have I not been my own worst enemy—did I not know him to be this from the first?”
Her secret reflection remained, however, unspoken. She answered the demand of John Cross without a moment's hesitation.
“I believe that Alfred Stevens is all that he is charged to be—a hypocrite—a wolf in sheep's clothing!—I see no reason to doubt the story of Ned Hinkley. He is an honest youth.”
The old lady was in consternation. The preacher aghast and confounded.
“Tell me, Margaret,” said the former, “hath he not engaged himself to you? Did he not promise—is he not sworn to be your husband?”
“I have already given you my belief. I see no reason to say anything more. What more do you need? Is he not gone—fled—has he not failed—”