“Come away!” she said to Mr. Bruff.  “Come away, for God’s sake, before that woman can say any more!  Oh, think of my poor mother’s harmless, useful, beautiful life!  You were at the funeral, Mr. Bruff; you saw how everybody loved her; you saw the poor helpless people crying at her grave over the loss of their best friend.  And that wretch stands there, and tries to make me doubt that my mother, who was an angel on earth, is an angel in heaven now!  Don’t stop to talk about it!  Come away!  It stifles me to breathe the same air with her!  It frightens me to feel that we are in the same room together!”

Deaf to all remonstrance, she ran to the door.

At the same moment, her maid entered with her bonnet and shawl.  She huddled them on anyhow.  “Pack my things,” she said, “and bring them to Mr. Bruff’s.”  I attempted to approach her—­I was shocked and grieved, but, it is needless to say, not offended.  I only wished to say to her, “May your hard heart be softened!  I freely forgive you!” She pulled down her veil, and tore her shawl away from my hand, and, hurrying out, shut the door in my face.  I bore the insult with my customary fortitude.  I remember it now with my customary superiority to all feeling of offence.

Mr. Bruff had his parting word of mockery for me, before he too hurried out, in his turn.

“You had better not have explained yourself, Miss Clack,” he said, and bowed, and left the room.

The person with the cap-ribbons followed.

“It’s easy to see who has set them all by the ears together,” she said.  “I’m only a poor servant—­but I declare I’m ashamed of you!” She too went out, and banged the door after her.

I was left alone in the room.  Reviled by them all, deserted by them all, I was left alone in the room.

Is there more to be added to this plain statement of facts—­to this touching picture of a Christian persecuted by the world?  No! my diary reminds me that one more of the many chequered chapters in my life ends here.  From that day forth, I never saw Rachel Verinder again.  She had my forgiveness at the time when she insulted me.  She has had my prayerful good wishes ever since.  And when I die—­to complete the return on my part of good for evil—­she will have the life, letters, and labours of miss Jane Ann Stamper left her as a legacy by my will.

SECOND NARRATIVE

Contributed by Mathew Bruff, Solicitor, of Gray’s Inn Square

CHAPTER I

My fair friend, Miss Clack, having laid down the pen, there are two reasons for my taking it up next, in my turn.

In the first place, I am in a position to throw the necessary light on certain points of interest which have thus far been left in the dark.  Miss Verinder had her own private reason for breaking her marriage engagement—­and I was at the bottom of it.  Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite had his own private reason for withdrawing all claim to the hand of his charming cousin—­and I discovered what it was.