"If my judgment is not ripe, Adéle, my eyesight is very clear, and I made no mistake when I unlocked Mrs. Hartell's emerald earring for you. You would not have asked me to do it if you could have done it yourself."
"Mon Dieu! mon enfant, is there but one emerald earring in the world?—that was the earring of my friend Matilda!"
"I do not believe it, Adéle, any more than I believe those stockings embroidered with rosebuds which I saw on Mrs. Hartell's feet last Sunday, and which are now on yours, belong to Matilda! I am not deceived, Adéle, and I fear I am wrong in not undeceiving Mrs. Hartell."
"You will not dare to say to madame," cried Adéle, bursting into a stormy flood of tears, "that I am thief and liar—madame will believe not—madame know very well the American servant hate all the French peoples."
"It is true she may not believe me, but that is no reason why I should not do right. I hate to turn telltale—I have no friend to advise me; but my conscience, a safe adviser, tells me I ought not to stand silently by and see my employer's confidence abused."
"Then you tell?" asked Adéle, alarmed and enraged.
"I must, if you go on in this way—but if you stop here I will never tell what is past." Lucy paused for Adéle's reply. She was too cunning to make a promise that implied confession. "I never will bind myself to one such little girl as you—but remember, you have promised not to tell till you suspect more." She evidently was abashed, but
