"If there is anything like a true heart under that splendid silk dress of hers, I shall write and relieve poor Engelman by to-night's post." To confide my private surmises, even to my aunt, would have been an act of inexcusable imprudence, to say the least of it.

I could only reply that Madame Fontaine was not very well, and was (as I had heard from Minna) shut up in the retirement of her own room.
The resolute little woman got on her feet instantly.

"Show me where she is, David--and leave the rest to me." I led her to the door, and was dismissed with these words--"Go and wait in my room till I come back to you." As I retired, I heard a smart knock, and my aunt's voice announcing herself outside--"Mrs.Wagner, ma'am, with something serious to say to you." The reply was inaudible.

Not so my aunt's rejoinder: "Oh, very well! Just read that letter, will you?
I'll push it under the door, and wait for an answer." I lingered for a minute longer--and heard the door opened and closed again.
In little more than half an hour, my aunt returned.

She looked serious and thoughtful.