She never thought of one
of the many things Tom had done or said that had cut her to the
heart; those had no longer any existence. They were swallowed in
the gulf of forgetful love--dismissed even as God casts the sins
of his children behind his back: behind God's back is just
nowhere. She did not answer, and again there was silence for a
time, during which Mary kept walking about the room, her hands
clasped behind her, the fingers interlaced, and twisted with a
strain almost fierce.
"There's no time! there's no time!" she cried at length. "How are
we to find out? And if we knew all about it, what could we do? O
Letty! what _am_ I to do?"
"Anyhow, Mary dear, _you_ can't be to blame! One would think
you fancied yourself accountable for Cousin Godfrey!"
"I _am_ accountable for him. He has done more for me than
any man but my father; and I know what he does not know, and what
the ignorance of will be his ruin. I know that one of the best
men in the world"--so in her agony she called him--"is in danger
of being married by one of the worst women; and I can't bear it--
I can't bear it!"
"But what can you do, Mary?"
"That's what I want to know," returned Mary, with irritation.
"What _am_ I to do? What _am_ I to do?"
"If he's in love with her, he wouldn't believe a word any one--
even you--told him against her."
"That is true, I suppose; but it won't clear me.
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