red itself quickly in Margaret's mind, she tightened her hold on
the girl's hand, and the ridicule left her voice. "Don't go, Garda," she
said, beseechingly.

"I must; it's my last chance."

"I shouldn't care much for a last chance which I had had to arrange
entirely myself."

"Well, that is the difference between us--_I_ should," Garda answered.

"I shall have to speak more plainly, then, and tell you that you must
not go. It would be thought extremely wrong."

"Who would think so?"

"Everybody."

"You know you mean Evert," said Garda, amused.

"I mean everybody. But if it should be Evert too!"

"I shouldn't care."

"If he were somewhere about here now, and should see you, shouldn't you
care for that?" asked Margaret, a change of expression, in spite of her
effort to prevent it, passing over her face.

But Garda did not see the change; her eyes had happened to fall upon a
loosened end of her sash, she drew her hand away in order to retie the
ribbons in a new knot, while she answered: "Do you mean see me going
into Madam Giron's? No, provided he didn't follow me. I give you my
word, Margaret, that I should really like to have Evert see me, I
believe I'd go half a mile out of my way on purpose; he is so
exasperatingly sure of--"

"Of what?"

"Of everything," answered Garda, making a grimace; "but especially of
me." Having now adjusted the knot to her satisfaction, she raised her
eyes again. "But _you_ are the one that cares," she said, looking at her
friend. "I can't tell you how sorry I am that you have met me here," she
went on, in a tone of regret. "But how was I to imagine that you would
change your mind, and come way round through this wood? It's too late
now." And she walked on towards the bend.

Margaret stood still for a moment. Then she hurried after her. "Garda,"
she said, "I beg you not to go; I beg you here on my knees, if that will
move you. Your mother left you to me, I stand in her place; think what
she would have wished. Oh, my dear child, it would be very wrong to go,
listen to me and believe me."

Garda, struck by her agitation, had stopped; with a sort of soft outcry
she had prevented her from kneeling. "Margaret! _you_ kneel to
_me_?--you dear, good, beautiful Margaret! You care so much about it,
then?--so _very_ much?"

"More than anything in the world," Margaret answered, in a voice unlike
her own.

With one of her sudden impulses, Garda exclaimed, "Then I won't go! But
someb