prettier name, I think. Her husband is fond
of her— I am sure he is. How can he have
any heart at all, and not be fond of her?"

"So! so! " exclaimed Uncle Joseph, looking
very much perplexed. " Good, if he is fond
of her—very good. But what labyrinth are
we getting into now ? Wherefore all this
about a husband and a wife ? My word of
honour, Sarah, but your explanation
explains nothing—it only softens my brains!"

"I must speak of her and of Mr. Frankland,
uncle. Porthgenna Tower belongs to her
husband now; and they are both going to
live there."

"Ah! we are getting back into the straight
road at last."

"They are going to live in the very house
that holds the Secret; they are going to
repair that very part of it where the letter
is hidden. She will go into the old rooms—I
heard her say so; she will search about in
them to amuse her curiosity; workmen will
clear them out, and she will stand by, in her
idle hours, looking on."

"But she suspects nothing of the Secret?"

"God forbid she ever should!"

"And there are many rooms in the house?
And the letter in which the Secret is written
is hidden in one of the many ? Why should
she hit on that one ?"

"Because I always say the wrong thing!
because I always get frightened and lose
myself at the wrong time! The letter is
hidden in a room called the Myrtle Room,
and I was foolish enough, weak enough, crazed
enough, to warn her against going into it."

"Ah, Sarah! Sarah! that was a mistake
indeed."

"I can't tell what possessed me—I seemed
to lose my senses when I heard her talking
so innocently of amusing herself by searching
through the old rooms, and when I thought
of what she might find there. It was getting
on towards night, too; the horrible darkness
was gathering in the corners and creeping
along the walls; and I didn't dare light the
candles for she should see how anxious and
frightened I was in my face. And when I
did light them it was worse. Oh, I don't
know how I did it! I don't know why I
did it! I could have torn my tongue out for
saying the words, and yet I said them.
Other people can think for the best; other
people can act for the best; other people
have had a heavy weight laid on their minds,
and have not dropped under it as I have.
Help me, uncle, for the sake of old times
when we were happy—help me with a word
of advice!"

"I will help you; I live to help you,
Sarah! No, no, no—you must not look so
forlorn; you must not look at me with those
crying eyes. Come! I will advise this
minute—but say in what; only say in
what."

"Have I not told you ?"

"No; you have not told me a word yet."

"I will tell you now—"

She paused, looked away distrustfully
towards the door leading into the shop, listened
a little, and resumed:—" I am not at the
end of my journey yet, Uncle Joseph— I am
here on my way to Porthgenna Tower—on
my way to the Myrtle Room—on my way,
step by step, to the place where the letter
lies hid. I dare not destroy it; I dare not
remove it; but, run what risk I may, I
must take it out of the Myrtle Room."

Uncle Joseph said nothing, but he shook
his head despondingly.

"I must," she repeated; " before Mrs.
Frankland gets to Porthgenna, I must take
that letter out of the Myrtle Room. There
are places in the old house where I may
hide it again—places that she would never
think of— places that she would never notice.
Only let me get it out of the one room that
she is sure to search in, and I know where
to hide it from her and from every one for
ever."

Uncle Joseph reflected, and shook his head
again—then said:—" One word, Sarah; does
Mrs. Frankland know which is the Myrtle
Room?"

"I did my best to destroy all trace of that
name when I hid the letter; I hope and
believe she does not. But she may find out—
remember the words I was crazed enough to
speak; they will set her seeking for the
Myrtle Room; they are sure to do that."

"And if she finds it? And if she sees the
letter ?"

"It will cause misery to innocent people;
it will bring death to me. Don't push your
chair from me, uncle! It is not shameful
death I speak of. The worst injury I have
done is injury to myself; the worst death I
have to fear is the death that releases a
worn-out spirit and cures a broken heart."

"Enough—enough so," said the old man.
"I ask for no secret, Sarah, that is not yours
to give. It is all dark to me—very dark,
very confused. I look away from it; I look
only towards you. Not with doubt, my child,
but with pity, and with sorrow, too—sorrow
that ever you went near that house of
Porthgenna— sorrow that you are now going to it
again."

"I have no choice, uncle, but to go. If
every step on the road to Porthgenna took me
nearer and nearer to my death, I must still
tread it. Knowing what I know, I can't
rest, I can't sleep—my very breath won't
come freely— till I have got that letter out of
the Myrtle Room. How to do it—oh, Uncle
Joseph, how to do it, without being suspected,
without being discovered by anybody— that
is what I would almost give my life to know!
You are a man; you are older and wiser
than I am; no living creature ever asked
you for help in vain—help me now! my only
friend in all the world, help me a little with
a word of advice!"

Uncle Joseph rose from his chair, and