CHAPTER XIV.
In the morning Jane Morton prepared to meet Mrs.Brenton, and make her confession.

She called at the Brenton residence, but found it closed, as it had been ever since the tragedy of Christmas morning.

It took her some time to discover the whereabouts of Mrs.Brenton, who, since the murder, had resided with a friend except while under arrest.
For a moment Mrs.Brenton did not recognize the thin and pale woman who stood before her in a state of such extreme nervous agitation, that it seemed as if at any moment she might break down and cry.
"I don't suppose you'll remember me, ma'am," began the girl, "but I worked for you two weeks before--before----" "Oh yes," said Mrs.Brenton, "I remember you now.

Have you been ill?
You look quite worn and pale, and very different from what you did the last time I saw you." "Yes," said the girl, "I believe I have been ill.".
"You _believe_; aren't you sure ?" "I have been very ill in mind, and troubled, and that is the reason I look so badly,--Oh, Mrs.Brenton, I wanted to tell you of something that has been weighing on my mind ever since that awful day! I know you can never forgive me, but I must tell it to you, or I shall go crazy." "Sit down, sit down," said the lady, kindly; "you know what trouble I have been in myself.

I am sure that I am more able to sympathize now with one who is in trouble than ever I was before." "Yes, ma'am; but you were innocent, and I am guilty.