"Yes, ma'am," replied Jane, turning pale—"it is mine." She ventured, as she spoke, to look at David. His eyes were fixed on a newspaper he seemed to be reading; not a muscle of his face moved, nor was there the slightest trace of emotion.
"Yours," said Mrs. Wilson; "that you could not deny, for your name is at full length on it; and when did you have it last?"
"Last night, ma'am."
"And who has robbed me of five hundred dollars? Can you answer to that?"
Jane made no reply. She saw, that her aunt's suspicions rested on her, and she perceived, at once, the cruel dilemma in which she had involved herself by her promise to David.
"Answer me that," repeated Mrs. Wilson, violently.
"That I cannot answer you, ma'am."
"And you mean to deny that you have taken it yourself?"
"Certainly I do, ma'am," replied Jane, firmly, for she had now recovered her self-possession. "I am perfectly innocent; and I am sure that, whatever appearances there may be against me, you cannot believe me guilty—you do not."
"And do you think to face me down in this way. I have evidence enough to satisfy any court of justice. Was not you heard up in the night—your guilty face told the story, at breakfast, plainer than words could tell it. David," she continued to her son, who had thrown down the paper
