I do not know how to describe the feelings with which Miss Marlay went out from Albert.  Even in the message, full of love, which he had sent to his mother, he did not say one word about his guilt or innocence.  And yet Isabel believed in her heart that he had not committed the crime.  While he was strong and free from suspicion, Isa Marlay had admired him.  He seemed to her, notwithstanding his eccentricities, a man of such truth, fervor, and earnestness of character, that she liked him better than she was willing to admit to herself.  Now that he was an object of universal suspicion, her courageous and generous heart espoused his cause vehemently.  She stood ready to do anything in the world for him.  Anything but what he had asked her to do.  Why she did not like to carry messages from him to Miss Minorkey she did not know.  As soon as she became conscious of this jealous feeling in her heart, she took herself to task severely.  Like the good girl she was, she set her sins out in the light of her own conscience.  She did more than that.  But if I should tell you truly what she did with this naughty feeling, how she dragged it out into the light and presence of the Holy One Himself, I should seem to be writing cant, and people would say that I was preaching.  And yet I should only show you the source of Isa’s high moral and religious culture.  Can I write truly of a life in which the idea of God as Father, Monitor, and Friend is ever present and dominant, without showing you the springs of that life?

When Isabel Marlay, with subdued heart, sought Miss Minorkey, it was with her resolution fixed to keep the trust committed to her, and, as far as possible, to remove all suspicions from Miss Minorkey’s mind.  As for any feeling in her own heart—­she had no right to have any feeling but a friendly one to Albert.  She would despise a woman who could love a man that did not first declare his love for her.  She said this to herself several times by way of learning the lesson well.

Isa found Miss Minorkey, with her baggage packed, ready for a move.  Helen told Miss Marlay that her father found the air very bad for him, and meant to go to St. Anthony, where there was a mineral spring and a good hotel.  For her part, she was glad of it, for a little place like Metropolisville was not pleasant.  So full of gossip.  And no newspapers or books.  And very little cultivated society.

Miss Marlay said she had a package of something or other, which Mr. Charlton had sent with his regards.  She said “something or other” from an instinctive delicacy.

“Oh! yes; something of mine that he borrowed, I suppose,” said Helen.  “Have you seen him?  I’m really sorry for him.  I found him a very pleasant companion, so full of reading and oddities.  He’s the last man I should have believed could rob the post-office.”

“Oh! but he didn’t,” said Isa.

“Indeed!  Well, I’m glad to hear it.  I hope he’ll be able to prove it.  Is there any new evidence?”