If he had realized the depth of the fellow’s villany he would not have gone back to his studies so quietly, for the one nearest to his heart was its object.  The scene he had witnessed can soon be explained.  Goods at the lace counter had been missed on more than one occasion, and it had been the hope of Mildred’s enemy that he might fasten the suspicion upon her.  On this evening, however, he had seen the girl in question secrete two or three pieces as she was folding them up, and he believed she had carried them away with her.  Immediately on joining her he had charged her with the theft, and in answer to her denials threatened to have her searched before they parted.  Then in terror she admitted the fact, and was in a condition to become his unwilling accomplice in the diabolical scheme suggested by his discovery.

He had said to her, in effect, that he suspected another girl—­namely, Mildred Jocelyn—­and that if she would place the goods in the pocket of this girl’s cloak on the following afternoon he would by this act be enabled to extort a confession from her also, such as he had received in the present case.  He then promised the girl in return for this service that he would make no complaint against her, but would give her the chance to find another situation, which she must do speedily, since he could no longer permit her to remain in the employ of the house for whom he acted.  She was extremely reluctant to enter into this scheme, but, in her confusion, guilt, and fear, made the evil promise, finding from bitter experience that one sin, like an enemy within the walls, opens the gate to many others.  She tried to satisfy such conscience as she had with the thought that Mildred was no better than herself, and that the worst which could happen to the object of this sudden conspiracy was a quiet warning to seek employment elsewhere.  The man himself promised as much, although he had no such mild measures in view.  It was his design to shame Mildred publicly, to break down her character, and render her desperate.  He had learned that she had no protector worthy of the name, and believed that he could so adroitly play his part that he would appear only as the vigilant and faithful servant of his employers.

Mildred, all unconscious of the pit dug beneath her feet, was passing out the following evening into the dreary March storm, when the foreman touched her shoulder and said that one of the proprietors wished to see her.  In much surprise, and with only the fear of one whose position meant daily bread for herself and those she loved better than self, she followed the man to the private office, where she found two of the firm, and they looked grave and severe indeed.

“Miss Jocelyn,” began the elder, without any circumlocution, “laces have been missed from your department, and suspicion rests on you.  I hope you can prove yourself innocent.”

The charge was so awful and unexpected that she sank, paie and faint, into a chair, and the appearance of the terror-stricken girl was taken as evidence of guilt.  But she goon rallied sufficiently to say, with great earnestness, “Indeed, sir, I am innocent.”