“None.”

She made a slight gesture with her handsome shoulders, but she only said, “I should have liked to have pleased you in this,” and turned coldly away.  He had left without knowing the result of the interview; but a few days later he received a letter from her stating that she had allowed Susy to return to her aunt, and that she had resigned all claims to her guardianship.

“It seemed to be a foregone conclusion,” she wrote; “and although I cannot think such a change will be for her permanent welfare, it is her present wish, and who knows, indeed, if the change will be permanent?  I have not allowed the legal question to interfere with my judgment, although her friends must know that she forfeits any claim upon the estate by her action; but at the same time, in the event of her suitable marriage, I should try to carry out what I believe would have been Mr. Peyton’s wishes.”

There were a few lines of postscript:  “It seems to me that the change would leave you more free to consult your own wishes in regard to continuing your friendship with Susy, and upon such a footing as may please you.  I judge from Mrs. McClosky’s conversation that she believed you thought you were only doing your duty in reporting to me, and that the circumstances had not altered the good terms in which you all three formerly stood.”

Clarence had dropped the letter with a burning indignation that seemed to sting his eyes until a scalding moisture hid the words before him.  What might not Susy have said?  What exaggeration of his affection was she not capable of suggesting?  He recalled Mrs. McClosky, and remembered her easy acceptance of him as Susy’s lover.  What had they told Mrs. Peyton?  What must be her opinion of his deceit towards herself?  It was hard enough to bear this before he knew he loved her.  It was intolerable now!  And this is what she meant when she suggested that he should renew his old terms with Susy; it was for him that this ill-disguised, scornful generosity in regard to Susy’s pecuniary expectations was intended.  What should he do?  He would write to her, and indignantly deny any clandestine affection for Susy.  But could he do that, in honor, in truthfulness?  Would it not be better to write and confess all?  Yes,—­everything.

Fortunately for his still boyish impulsiveness, it was at this time that the discovery of his own financial ruin came to him.  The inquest on the body of Pedro Valdez and the confession of his confidant had revealed the facts of the fraudulent title and forged testamentary documents.  Although it was correctly believed that Pedro had met his death in an escapade of gallantry or intrigue, the coroner’s jury had returned a verdict of “accidental death,” and the lesser scandal was lost in the wider, far-spreading disclosure of fraud.  When he had resolved to assume all the liabilities of his purchase, he was obliged to write to Mrs. Peyton and confess his ruin.