than any thing else lay at the bottom of the dilemma in which I
found myself. For, humiliating as it is to confess, the persistency
with which certain impressions remained in my mind, in spite of the
glowing daylight that now surrounded me, warned me that it would be
for my peace to leave this house before my presentiments became
fearful realities; while on the other hand my promise to Ada seemed
to constrain me to remain in it till I had at least solved some of
those mysteries of emotion which connected one and all of this
family so intimately with the cause to which I had pledged myself.

"If the general verdict in regard to Mr. Barrows' death should be
one of suicide," thought I, "how could I reconcile myself to the
fact that I fled at the first approaching intimation that all was
not as simple in his relations as was supposed, and that somewhere,
somehow, in the breast of certain parishioners of his, a secret lay
hidden, which, if known, would explain the act which otherwise must
imprint an ineffaceable stain upon his memory?"

My heart and brain were still busy with this question when the sound
of Mr. Pollard's footsteps passing my door recalled me to a sense of
my present duty. Rising, I hurried across the hall to the sick-
chamber, and was just upon the point of entering, when the doctor
appeared before me, and seeing me, motioned me back, saying:

"Mrs. Harrington has just arrived. As she will doubtless wish to see
her mother at once, you had better wait a few moments till the first
agitation is over."

Glad of any respite, and particularly glad to escape an introduction
to Mrs. Harrington at this time, I slipped hastily away, but had not