such intimate terms with Mr. Lawrence' s house hold."
"It was not from the man himself, that I heard it; but he told it in confidence to our maid Sarah, and Sarah told it to me."
"In confidence, I suppose; and you tell it in confidence to us; but I can tell you that it is but a lame story after all, and scarcely one half of it true."
While I spoke, I completed the sealing and direction of my letters, with a somewhat unsteady hand, in spite of all my efforts to retain composure, and in spite of my firm conviction that the story was a lame one—that the supposed Mrs. Graham, most certainly, had not voluntarily gone back to her husband, or dreamt of a reconciliation. Most likely, she was gone away, and the tale-bearing servant, not knowing what was become of her, had conjectured that such was the case, and our fair visiter had detailed it as a certainty, delighted with such an opportunity of tormenting me. But it was
