was talking to another girl, and no less a girl
than that one I had promised you to have no communication with for a
whole week--Irene Ashleigh. Please hear me out before you speak. I did
not ask her to come to me. She came on her own account. I did mean to
keep my word of honor; but Irene, poor little girl! had taken a liking
to me. I had managed, I don't know how, to touch something sympathetic
in her heart, and she was hungering for me, and you had forbidden me to
go to her. So last night, after I came to bed, she was in my room. She
had got in by the window. Oh, don't look at me with those startled eyes!
I do not wish her to be blamed, and I was not to blame when I found her
there, for I did mean to keep my word of honor. She begged of me to lock
the door, but I refused; and I think I was almost inducing her to leave
the house, and to go home, when Lucy burst into the room. Lucy came to
fetch something for Mrs. Merriman--something that Jane wanted--and Irene
was under the bed like a flash. It was she who made that noise that Lucy
attributed to me. Then afterwards I felt reckless, and I did lock the
door, and I did go out by the open window, and I spent the night in the
summer-house with little Irene, and this morning I walked back with her
to The Follies. Now you know what I am. You see I am not worth saving;
and I want to tell you that if you will not have me here, then I will go
to Lady Jane, and tell her the entire story, and ask her if I may stay
with her--at least until the time of infection is over. That is what I
wish to do; but I will not go in the dark. I have told you how naughty I
have been, and you can punish me by expelling me from the school. But,
please, quite understand that your daughter has provoked me a great
deal, and that I did make an effort--at least at first--to keep my word
of honor."

Rosamund's voice dropped. In truth, the emotions of the previous day,
the night before, and this morning had been too many for her. She
trembled, and finally, to the great astonishment of the Professor, burst
into tears. Now, no one ever had higher principles than Professor
Merriman, but no man ever had a greater horror of tears. He could not
bear what Rosamund had told him; he could not understand how, under any
provocation, a girl could act as Rosamund had done; and yet, at the same
time, her tears so maddened him that he would have done anything to get
rid of her.

"You bewilder me," he said. "Of course,