There was first your walking out with a young man in the dark—"
"But it was my brother!" said Margaret, surprised.
"True. But how was he to know that?"
"I don't know. I never thought of any thing of that kind," said Margaret, reddening, and looking hurt and offended.
"And perhaps he never would, but for the lie,— which, under the circumstances, I maintain, was necessary."
"It was not. I know it now. I bitterly repent it."
There was a long pause of silence. Margaret was the first to speak.
"I am not likely ever to see Mr. Thornton again,"—and there she stopped.
"There are many things more unlikely, I should say," replied Mr. Bell.
"But I believe I never shall. Still, somehow one does not like to have sunk so low in—in a friend's opinion as I have done in his." Her eyes were full of tears, but her voice was steady, and Mr. Bell was not looking at her. "And now that Frederick has given up all hope, and almost all wish of ever clearing himself, and returning to England, it would be only doing myself justice to have all this explained. If you please, and if you can, if there is a good opportunity, (don't force an explanation upon him, pray,) but if you can, will you tell him the whole circumstances, and tell him also that I gave you leave to do so, because I felt that for papa's sake I should not like to lose his respect, though we may never be likely to meet again?"
