reated, her bloodless lips apart, her eyes starting as in
suffocation. She stumbled against a chair, fell to the ground, and, with
a cry of anguish, threw herself upon her knees before Nancy.

'What did I say? I didn't mean it--I don't know what I have been
saying--it was all madness. Oh, do forgive me! That isn't how I really
think of you--you know it isn't--I'm not so wicked as that. We have been
friends so long--I must have gone mad to speak such words. Don't drive
me away from you, dear, dear Nancy! I implore you to forgive me! Look, I
pray to you on my knees to forget it. Despise me for being such a weak,
wicked creature, but don't drive me away like that! I didn't mean one
word I said.'

'Rubbish! Of course you meant it. You have thought it every day, and
you'll say it again, behind my back, if not to my face. Stand up, and
don't make yourself sillier than you are.'

'You can't call me anything too bad--but don't drive me away. I can't
bear it. You are the only friend I have in the world--the only, only
friend. No one was ever kind and good to me but you, and this is how
I have repaid you. Oh, I hate myself! I could tear my tongue out
for saying such things. Only say that you'll try to forgive me--dear
Nancy--dear--'

She fell with face upon the carpet, and grovelled there in anguish of
conflicting passions, a lamentable object. Unable to bear the sight of
her, Nancy moved away, and stood with back turned, perforce hearing the
moans and sobs and half-articulate words which lasted until the fit
of hysteria left its victim in mute exhaustion. Then, contemptuously
pitiful, she drew near again to the prostrate figure.

'Stand up at once, and let us have an end of this vulgar folly. Stand
up, or I'll leave you here, and never speak to you again.'

'Nancy--can you forgive me?'

'I believe you have never got over your illness. If I were you, I should
see the doctor again, and try to be cured. You'll end in an asylum, if
you don't mind.'

'I often feel almost mad--I do really. Will you forget those dreadful
words I spoke? I know you can't forgive me at once--'

'Only stand up, and try to behave like a reasonable being. What do I
care for your words?'

The girl raised herself, threw her arms over a chair, and wept
miserably.

CHAPTER 2

On an afternoon at the end of October, Samuel Barmby, returned from
business, found Miss. Morgan having tea with his sisters. For a month
or two after Midsummer the