"Dear Prentiss, you must not say Mrs. Turner is not a lady. She has far
more delicacy of feeling than many ladies," cried Mary.

"Yes, Miss Mary, dear, I allow that she is very nice to you; but who
could help that? and to hear my lady's name--that might have her faults,
but who was far above anything of the sort--in every mouth, and her
costume, that they don't know how to describe, and to think that _she_
would go and talk to the like of Betsy Barnes about what is on her mind!
I think sometimes I shall break my, heart, or else throw up my place,
Miss Mary," Prentiss said, with tears.

"Oh, don't do that; oh, don't leave me, Prentiss!" Mary said, with an
involuntary cry of dismay.

"Not if you mind, not if you mind, dear," the housekeeper cried. And then
she drew close to the young lady with an anxious look. "You haven't seen
anything?" she said. "That would be only natural, Miss Mary. I could well
understand she couldn't rest in her grave,--if she came and told it all
to you."

"Prentiss, be silent," cried Mary; "that ends everything between you and
me, if you say such a word. There has been too much said already,--oh,
far too much! as if I only loved her for what she was to leave me."

"I did not mean that, dear," said Prentiss; "but--"

"There is no but; and everything she did was right," the girl cried with
vehemence. She shed hot and bitter tears over this wrong which all her
friends did to Lady Mary's memory. "I am glad it was so," she said to