on't go away and leave me locked in," called the poor
prisoner through the keyhole. "Don't you go a-forgetting of me, Miss
Ermie, or I'll be found a moldified skeleton here, by and by." Susy's
tone was tearful, and Ermie's piteous entreaties to her to hush were
scarcely listened to. Footsteps were heard coming down the corridor.

"She's coming! I shall be betrayed. Do be quiet, Susy!" whispered
Ermengarde in an agony.

At that moment the room door was unlocked, and Miss Nelson came in.

"I thought I heard you talking to some one, my dear," she said.

"I was only repeating some poetry over," said Ermengarde, raising her
delicate brows.

She hated herself for telling this lie. She had yet to learn that one
act of deceit must lead to another.

"I am glad you are improving your mind, Ermie," said the governess.

She went up to the little girl, took one of her cold hands, and kissed
her.

"Well, my dear, we have all come back, and on your account. Basil
pleaded very hard for you. He certainly is a dear fellow; I don't
wonder you love him, my dear. He pleaded for you, Ermengarde, and
I--my love, I have yielded to his request. I have come back to say
that I forgive you, Ermie. You will try to obey me in future, my dear
child, and this punishment, owing to Basil's intercession, may be
considered at an end. We are all going to have tea in the hay-field,
and you are to join us there. Run up to your room, dear, and put on
your brown holland frock. I will wait for you here. Kiss me, Ermie,
before you go."

Ermengarde went up to her governess. She went slowly, for she had the
greatest possible difficulty in keeping her tears back. But for Susy's
presence in the cupboard this sudden forgiveness and deliverance
would have set her dancing for joy. As it was, her heart felt like
lead, and she hated herself for her meanness.

"Kiss me, Ermie," said Miss Nelson. "There, my child. My dear, you
need not look down-hearted any more. I was obliged to punish you, but
I don't think you will willfully and deliberately disobey me again.
Cheer up now, Ermengarde; the past is past. You must ask God to give
you strength to do better in the future, my dear. And--one thing--I
want you to believe in my love, Ermie; I don't show it much. It is one
of my trials that I can't show all that I feel, but--your mother's
child is beloved by me, Ermengarde."

"Oh, don't speak of mother," said Ermengarde, with a little sob. She
rushed out of the room