“It is not too soon, nurse, when every tongue has learned to speak against him,” replied Emmeline, calmly, though a sudden flush rose to her cheek.  “He must be glad to feel Mr. Howard no longer requires his services.”

“But dear Miss Emmeline, you surely do not believe one word of all the scandalous reports about him?” said the widow, earnestly.

“I do not wish to do so, nor will I, without more convincing proofs,” replied Emmeline, steadily.  “My father, I fear, is deeply prejudiced, and that, in one of his charitable and kindly feelings, would tell against him.”

“My master has been imposed on by false tales, my dear young lady; do not let them do so on you,” said the good woman, with an eagerness which almost surprised her young companion.  “I am quite convinced he has some secret enemy in the parish, I am pretty certain who it is; and I do not despair one day of exposing all his schemes, and proving Mr. Myrvin is as well disposed and excellent a young man as any in the parish.  I know who the villain is in this case, and my master shall know it too, one day.”  Emmeline struggled to subdue the entreaty that was bursting from her lips, but entirely she could not, and seizing the widow’s hand, she exclaimed, in a low agitated voice—­

“Do so; oh, proclaim the falsehood, the cruelty of these reports, and I—­I mean Arthur—­Mr. Myrvin will bless you.  It is so cruel, in such early youth, to have one’s character defamed, and he has only that on which to rest; tell me, promise me you will not forget this determination.”

“To the very best of my ability, Miss Emmeline, I promise you,” replied Mrs. Langford, more and more confirmed in her suspicions.  “But do not excite yourself so much, dear heart.  Mr. Maitland said you were to be kept quite quiet, you know, and you have fatigued yourself so much, you are trembling like an aspen.”

“My weakness must plead my excuse for my folly, dear nurse,” answered Emmeline, striving by a smile to control two or three tears, which, spite of all resistance, would chase one another down her pale cheek.  “Do not mind me, I shall get well very soon.  And how long do you think it will be before you succeed in your wish?”

“Not for some time, my dear young lady, at present.  I have only my suspicions; I must watch cautiously, ere they can be confirmed.  I assure you, I am as anxious that poor young man’s character should be cleared as you can be.”

A faint smile for a moment played round Emmeline’s lips, as she pressed the good woman’s hand, and said she was satisfied.  A little while longer she lingered, then rousing herself with a strong effort, she visited, as she had intended, two or three poor cottages, and forced herself to listen to and enter with apparent interest on those subjects most interesting to their inmates.  In her solitary walk thence to Moorlands she strenuously combated with herself, lest her thoughts should adhere to their loved object,