married woman was mixed up in this trouble, whatever it was--a lady,
some years older than himself, whose husband, a naval officer, was
absent upon a long cruise. This may be the germ of the story related
here, and it may have nothing whatever to do with it."

In saying "here," she pointed to the letter. Both avoided touching
it as it lay between them, the big seal uppermost, and looking more
like bright, fresh blood than ever, in the lamplight.

"My dear, all this proves nothing--absolutely nothing--except that
the shock and overmuch solitary musing have made you morbid and
unreasonable."

Mrs. Sutton assumed a collected air, and delivered herself with the
mien of one who was determined to submit to no trifling, and to
credit no scrap of evidence against her friend which
counter-reasoning could set aside.

"My husband's godson--we must remember he is that, Mabel!--could
never be guilty of the infamous conduct ascribed to this Chilton by
Winston Aylett's anonymous friend. I am accounted a tolerable judge
of character, and I maintain that it is a moral impossibility for my
instincts and experience to be so utterly at fault as these two men
would make you believe. As to the corroboration of your
'impression,' that would be consummate nonsense in the eye of the
law. Let us sift the pros and cons of this affair as rational,
unprejudiced beings should--not jump at conclusions. And I must say,
Mabel"--was the consistent peroration of this address, uttered in a
mildly-aggrieved tone, while the blue eyes began to shine through a
rising fog--"it seems to me very singular--really wounds me--is not