Miss Vernon coolly signified her attention.

“We deemed it our duty to do so, being married women,” broke in a little squeaky voice, belonging to the most demure-looking one of the party.

“Yes, we all decided, after long deliberation,” added the third, “that no young woman who cared for her reputation, would tarry a day longer under this roof.  This visit of ours is an act of the purest kindness, and we trust you will receive it as such, and in a kind spirit.”

“Yes,” resumed the first speaker, “it is no pleasant duty, and one we have long delayed performing, but we could not bear to see youth and innocence betrayed.”

Miss Vernon at first seemed stunned.  She knew not what to say, so many emotions filled her.  She tried to speak, but her tongue lost its power, and all was silent.  She made one more effort, and voice and courage returned, enabling her to address her “friends.”

“Will you inform me, ladies, what grounds you have for your accusations against Mr. Wyman?”

“I beg pardon, Miss, we who have known him longer than yourself, of course know both sides of his character; indeed he has no reputation in B—­, as all know.”

She started involuntarily.  What passed through her mind at that moment none can tell, but all can form some idea of the wild tremor of doubt which was gaining strength under their vile calumny and falsehood.

They saw their vantage ground, and followed close with such invectives as women only know how to hurl against whomsoever they assail.

“Strangers,” she could not call them ladies, “I can only speak out of my own experience of this person who a few months ago was unknown to me.  He has ever treated me with all delicacy and respect.  I have ever found him to be a gentleman.  I cannot, will not, believe your assertions,” she said with emphasis, a sudden strength coming over her.

“If you do not believe us, then seek one proof of his wrong dealing, which you can find any day, at a small cottage near the uplands, on the road to L—.  ’Tis only a mile from here, Miss, and we would advise you to acquaint yourself with the fact.  Take our good advice and leave this house.  That is all we can say to you.  Of course, if you remain here, you will not be admitted into respectable society.”

“I will not leave his house while he remains the friend and brother he is to me now.”

“No virtuous woman will permit you, then, to enter her house; remember this, Miss Vernon,” and the tall lady assumed an attitude of offended dignity.

“I see,” she continued, “our visit has done but little save to arouse you.  It may be at some future day, you will thank us for our advice to you this morning.  We must go now.  Good day, Miss.”

“Good morning,” replied Miss Vernon, rising and accompanying them to the door, scarce able to repel the strong tide of grief, or bear up under the weight of sadness that was bearing down her soul.