delight arose, which
even Miss Nelson could not stem.

In the midst of the general hubbub, she touched Ermengarde on her
shoulder.

"I want a word with you, my dear. Come with me."

In some astonishment Ermengarde rose to comply. The governess took her
into her own little room.

"Shut the door," she said.

She sat down herself, and Ermengarde stood before her. Her face was
pale, her voice shook.

"Ermengarde, will you now repeat your imposition poem."

"Casabianca," said Ermengarde. She had felt a vague sense of
uneasiness at Miss Nelson's manner. Now her brow cleared. She recited
the whole poem with scarcely a mistake, and with some show of feeling.

"You have said it well," said the governess. "It relates the
extraordinary exploit of a noble-hearted child. I grieve to say there
are few such in the world. May I ask you when you learned this poem,
Ermengarde?"

"Yesterday----" began Ermengarde.

"No, don't go on. I will save you, I must save you, poor child, from
yourself. You would tell another lie. You would deceive again. Ermie,
I have loved you. I--I--have suffered for you."

"I don't know what you mean," said Ermengarde, in a voice which shook
with anger. "Am I to be--are dreadful things to be said of me? Why do
you accuse me of telling lies? Why?"

"No more, my dear pupil. For, notwithstanding your refractory and
rebellious state, you are still my dear pupil."

"You are not my dear teacher, there!"

"Hush, I cannot permit impertinence! Ermengarde, I did not look for
open and direct disobedience from you. You are full of faults, but I
did not think deceit was one of them. I have found out about your
drive yesterday."

"Oh!" said Ermie. Her face grew very pale. "Did--did Marjorie tell
you? If I thought that----"

"No matter who told me. Don't blame your sister. She's worth twenty of
you. Think of your own sin. Ermengarde, you have hurt me deeply."

"I don't care," said Ermengarde. "I said I'd go, and I went. I don't
care."

"Poor child! I can only be very sorry for you. I can only pray God to
bring you to a different state of mind. You thought to hide your sin
from me. God knew it all the time."

Ermengarde shuffled from one foot to another. There was not a trace of
repentance about her face or manner.

"At one time I thought I must tell all to your father."

Ermengarde started at this.

"I resolved not to do so."

Her face grew relieved.

"But, Ermengarde," continued the governess