Her friend's exploit shone larger. 'Conscience-money? You sent it to Government?' Then while, as the effect of her surprise, her mate looked too much a fool, Amy melted to kindness. 'Why, you secretive old thing!'
Miss Susan presently pulled herself more together. 'When your ancestor has robbed the revenue and his spirit walks for remorse———'
'You pay to get rid of him? I see—and it becomes what the vicar called his atonement by deputy. But what if it isn't remorse?' Miss Amy shrewdly asked.
'But it is—or it seemed to me so.'
'Never to me,' said Miss Amy.
Again they searched each other. 'Then, evidently, with you he's different.'
Miss Amy looked away. 'I dare say!'
'So what is your idea?'
Miss Amy thought. 'I'll tell you only if it works.'
'Then, for God's sake, try it!'
Miss Amy, still with averted eyes and now looking easily wise, continued to think. 'To try it I shall have to leave you. That's why I've waited so long.' Then she fully turned, and with expression: 'Can you face three days alone?'
'Oh—"alone"! I wish I ever were!'
At this her friend, as for very compassion, kissed her; for it seemed really to have come out at last—and welcome!—that poor Susan was the worse beset. 'I'll do it! But I must go up to town. Ask me no questions. All I can tell you now is———'
'Well?' Susan appealed while Amy impressively fixed her.
'It's no more remorse than I'm a smuggler.'
'What is it then?'
'It's bravado.'
An 'Oh!' more shocked and scared than any that, in the whole business, had yet dropped from her, wound up poor Susan's share in this agreement, appearing as it did to repre-
