h rings, and round her neck a diamond
necklace clings as if in love with its resting place.

Diamonds indeed are everywhere. In her hair, in her breast, on her neck,
her fingers. Her father, when luck came to him, had found his greatest
joy in decking with these gems the delight of his heart.

The professor turns to Hardinge. That young man, who had risen with the
intention of leaving the room on Perpetua's entrance, is now standing
staring at her as if bewitched. His expression is half puzzled, half
amused. In _this_ the professor's troublesome ward? This lovely,
graceful----

"Leave us!" says the professor sharply. Hardinge, with a profound bow,
quits the room, but not the house. It would be impossible to go without
hearing the termination of this exciting episode. Everett's rooms being
providentially empty, he steps into them, and, having turned up the gas,
drops into a chair and gives way to mirth.

Meantime the professor is staring at Perpetua.

"What has happened?" says he.

CHAPTER VII.

"Take it to thy breast;
Though thorns its stem invest,
Gather them, with the rest!"

"She is unbearable. _Unbearable!_" returns Perpetua vehemently. "When I
came back from the concert to-night, she----But I won't speak of her. I
_won't_. And, at all events, I have done with her; I have left her. I
have come"--with decision--"to stay with you!"

"Eh?" says the professor. It is a mere sound, but it expresses a great
deal.

"To stay with you. Yes," nodding her head, "it has come to that at last.
I warned you it _would_. I couldn't stay with her any longer. I hate
her! So I have come to stay with you--_for ever_!"

She has cuddled herself into an armchair, and, indeed, looks as if a
life-long residence in this room is the plan she has laid out for
herself.

"Great heavens! What do you mean?" asks the poor professor, who should
have sworn by the heathen gods, but in a weak moment falls back upon the
good old formula. He sinks upon the table next him, and makes ruin of
the notes he had been scribbling--the ink is still wet--even whilst
Hardinge was with him. Could he only have known it, there are first
proofs of them now upon his trousers.

"I have told you," says she. "Good gracious, what a funny room this is!
I told you she was abominable to me when I came home to-night. She said
dreadful things to me, and I don't care whether she is my aunt or not, I
shan't let her scold me for nothing; and--I'm