"Well," said Miss Satterly rather unsympathetically, "and how did he
leave, then?"

Miss Forsyth twisted her watch chain and hesitated. "I really ought
_not_ to say a _word_--if you really don't _know_--what he _did_--"

"If it's to his discredit," said the schoolma'am, looking straight at
her, "I certainly don't know. It must have been something awful,
judging from your tone. Did he"--she spoke solemnly--"did he
_mur-r_der ten people, old men and children, and throw their bodies
into--a _well_?"

It is saying much for Miss Forsyth that she did not look as
disconcerted as she felt. She did, however, show a rather catty look
in her eyes, and her voice was tinged faintly with malice. "There are
_other_ crimes--beside--_murder_," she reminded. "I won't tell _what_
it was--but--but _Will_ found it necessary to _leave in the night_! He
did not even come to tell _me_ goodbye, and I have--but now we have met
by _chance_, and I could _explain_--and so," she smiled tremulously at
the schoolma'am, "I _know_ you can _understand_--and you will not
_mention_ to _anyone_ what I have told you. I'm too _impulsive_--and I
felt _drawn_ to you, somehow. I--I would _die_ if I thought any _harm_
could come to Will because of my _confiding_ in you. A woman," she
added pensively, "has so _much_ to bear--and this has been very
_hard_--because it was not a thing I could _talk over_--not even with
my own _mother_!" Miss Forsyth had the knack of saying very little
that was definite, and implying a great deal. This method saved her
the unpleasantness of retraction, and had quite as deep an effect is if
she came out plainly. She smiled confidingly down at the schoolma'am