"I have destroyed the letters," was her salutation.
"You have done what?" he asked.
"I feared you might send them to Ailsa, as you threatened," she repeated, "so I thought it safer to burn them."
"It is a lie!" shouted Hardwick, angered out of his good manners. "Emily, I am not to be done in this way. Give me the letters, or, by my honour, I will go straight to your father."
"I have destroyed them," she replied, tremblingly. "I thought it the wisest and safest plan. It is of no use being angry, the thing is done. But for the future, Tom, you may trust me, for may I never stir from here, if I don't hate that James Ailsa; and I'll never speak to him again."
What further romancing might have been indulged in by Emily, was cut short by her mother's calling to her, so she ran in, leaving Mr. Tom Hardwick standing where he was.
"Will you walk in?" called out Mrs. Bell to him.
"No I thank you," he answered, sullenly.
And, turning away, he had not left the gates many minutes, when he encountered Mr. Bell.
"Good morning, Mr. Tom. All well at home, I hope."
"I was coming in search of you, sir," said Hardwick, speaking in a very excited manner, and taking no notice of Mr. Bell's salutation. "An unpleasant matter has come to my knowledge, which I think you ought to be made acquainted with. That upstart, penniless fellow Ailsa, has taken upon himself to make love to your daughter, and unless a check is administered to him, he may be drawing her into a mess; a promise to marry him, or some such madness. Girls are such simpletons."
"My daughter? Emily?" stammered the astonished man.
"Emily of course. He has been sending her love-letters. She has got a whole heap of them, I dare say."
"Take care what you do say, sir," roared Mr. Bell.
"Oh, it is quite correct. I am sorry to say the whole village is up to it, and I thought I would give you a hint of what was going on," continued the friendly Tom, "and do as I would be done by. If it were my sister, for instance, I should hold myself under eternal obligations to the man who had enlightened me."
"Thanks, thanks, my dear Mr. Hardwick," exclaimed Mr. Bell, wringing his hand, and tearing away at a great rate towards the house.
He found Emily in her bedroom, and closing the door behind him as he addressed her, demanded, in a voice hoarse with suppressed passion, where the letters were that she had received from that beggar James Ailsa.
The startled girl stood transfixed before him: every vestige of colour forsook her countenance, and the sickness of terror flew to her heart.
"Do you hear me, disgraceful girl?" resumed Mr. Bell. "Give me up the letters, or I will break open and examine every box and drawer that may belong to you."
It was too stern a moment for equivocation; Emily faltered out that they were there, and pointed with her hand to the cabinet in the chest of drawers.
"Produce them."
