dock? Ermengarde, I
insist upon it, I will be answered."

"Give me half an hour, father, a quarter of an hour--ten minutes--just
to see Miss Nelson, and--and--Basil."

"Then you are in league with Basil, too! A nice state I find my family
in! I give a distinct and simple order to you, which you disobey.
Basil, whom I always supposed to be the soul of honor, has behaved
with wanton cruelty toward a lady who was your mother's friend, whom I
respect, and who has been placed more or less in authority over you
all. Not a word, Ermengarde. Basil has as good as confessed his guilt,
and I can only say that my old opinion of him can never be restored.
Then, I take you away on a visit, and Maggie comes to fetch you home,
because, forsooth, the gamekeeper's daughter with whom I have
forbidden you to have any intercourse is feverish, and wants to have a
conversation with you. Nonsense, Ermie! you posed very well at the
Russells' yesterday as a little philanthropist, but that role, my
dear, is not yours. Susan Collins had a far stronger reason for
recalling you from Glendower than the simple desire for your company.
Come, Ermie, this mystery has got to be cleared up. This is _not_ the
road home, nor am I aware that Miss Nelson resides at the other end of
the paddock. But this narrow path leads directly to Collins's cottage.
I presume you are going there. If you have no objection, we will go
together, my dear."

"Yes, father, I have every objection. You need not go to Collins's.
I--I won't keep it in any longer."

"I thought I should bring you to your senses. Now, what have you got
to say?"

"It's on account of Basil."

"Leave Basil's name out, please. I am not going to be cajoled into
restoring him to my favor again."

Ermengarde's face, which had been growing whiter and whiter during
this interview, now became convulsed with a spasm of great agony. She
put up her trembling hands to cover it. This was not a moment for
tears. Her hot eyes were dry.

"Father, you don't know Basil. _He_ has done nothing wrong, nothing.
It's all me. It's all me, father."

And then the miserable story, bit by bit, was revealed to Mr. Wilton;
it was told reluctantly, for even now Ermengarde would have shielded
herself if she could. Without a single word or comment, the narrative
was listened to. Then Mr. Wilton, taking Ermie's hand, walked silently
back to the house with her. Miss Wilton came down the steps of the
front entrance to meet them.