Her look was wandering and uncertain.  Her attention was distracted by sounds which to him had no meaning; and her judgment she felt was wavering and disturbed.

“I cannot tell.  Give me time to think; you will do that, I’m sure.  Go now, and leave me alone.  If it is right, God will give me strength to do it, and perhaps He will comfort me in my desolation.  But I do not know—­I cannot tell.  I must have time to think.  Go now, if you please, sir,” said she, imploringly.

“I am sure you will see it is a right thing I ask of you,” he persisted.

“Go now,” she repeated.

“Very well.  In two hours, I will come back again; for your sake, time is precious.  Even while we speak he may be arrested.  At eleven, I will come back.”

He went away, leaving her sick and dizzy with the effort to be calm and collected enough to think.  She had forgotten for the moment how near Edward was; and started when she saw the closet-door open, and his face put out.

“Is he gone?  I thought he never would go.  What a time you kept him, Maggie!  I was so afraid, once, you might sit down to write the letter in this room; and then I knew he would stop and worry you with interruptions and advice, so that it would never be ended; and my back was almost broken.  But you sent him off famously.  Why, Maggie!  Maggie!—­you’re not going to faint, surely!”

His sudden burst out of a whisper into a loud exclamation of surprise, made her rally; but she could not stand.  She tried to smile, for he really looked frightened.

“I have been sitting up for many nights—­and now this sorrow!” Her smile died away into a wailing, feeble cry.

“Well, well! it’s over now, you see.  I was frightened enough myself this morning, I own; and then you were brave and kind.  But I knew you could save me, all along.”

At this moment the door opened, and Mrs. Browne came in.

“Why, Edward, dear! who would have thought of seeing you!  This is good of you; what a pleasant surprise!  I often said, you might come over for a day from Woodchester.  What’s the matter, Maggie, you look so fagged?  She’s losing all her beauty, is not she, Edward?  Where’s breakfast?  I thought I should find all ready.  What’s the matter?  Why don’t you speak?” said she, growing anxious at their silence.  Maggie left the explanation to Edward.

“Mother,” said he, “I’ve been rather a naughty boy, and got into some trouble; but Maggie is going to help me out of it, like a good sister.”

“What is it?” said Mrs. Browne, looking bewildered and uneasy.

“Oh—­I took a little liberty with our friend Mr. Buxton’s name; and wrote it down to a receipt—­that was all.”

Mrs. Browne’s face showed that the light came but slowly into her mind.

“But that’s forgery—­is not it?” asked she at length, in terror.

“People call it so,” said Edward; “I call it borrowing from an old friend, who was always willing to lend.”