always do sooner or later, they don't mince their words then, and they
just take the sharpest thing that they can find at their tongue's end.
So you may depend on it, my dear Miss, that some day or other that young
Haughton will say, 'that you lost him the old Manor-house and the old
Darrell name,' and have been his disgrace; that's the very word, Miss; I
have heard husbands and wives say it to each other over and over again."

SOPHY.--"Oh, Mr. Fairthorn! Mr. Fairthorn! these horrid words cannot be
meant for me. I will go to Mr. Darrell--I will ask him how I can be a
dis--" Her lips could not force out the word.

FAIRTHORN.--"Ay; go to Mr. Darrell, if you please. He will deny it all;
he will never speak to me again. I don't care--I am reckless. But it is
not the less true that you make him an exile because you may make me a
beggar."

SOPHY (wringing her hands).--"Have you no mercy, Mr. Fairthorn? Will
you not explain?"

FAIRTHORN.--"Yes, if you will promise to keep it secret at least for the
next six months--anything for breathing-time."

SOPHY (impatiently).--"I promise, I promise; speak, speak."

And then Fairthorn did speak! He did speak of Jasper Losely--his
character--his debasement--even of his midnight visit to her host's
chamber. He did speak of the child fraudulently sought to be thrust on
Darrell--of Darrell's just indignation and loathing. The man was
merciless; though he had not an idea of the anguish he was inflicting, he
was venting his own anguish. All the mystery of her past life became