first, someone is evidently very much to blame. The whole matter must be
thoroughly sifted out, of course. I am disappointed, for I had great
confidence in you and Cooper--two old servants who might really have been
expected to possess some idea of the--the respect due to their master's
daughter. What will Sir Charles say when he hears of this objectionable
incident?"

"That's just what Mrs. Cooper and I are wondering, Miss," Mary took her
up with so much meaning that Miss Bilson inwardly quailed, sensible of
having committed a rather egregious blunder. This she made efforts to
repair by sheering off hurriedly on another tack.

"Not that I shall trouble Sir Charles with the matter, unless
circumstances arise which compel me to do so--as a duty. My great object,
of course, is at all times to spare him any domestic annoyance."

She began pulling off her gloves, a new pair and tight. Her hands were
moist and the glove-fingers stuck, rendering their removal lengthy and
difficult.

"To-morrow I shall have a thorough explanation with Miss Damaris and
decide what action it is my duty to take after hearing her version of the
events of this afternoon. I should prefer speaking to her to-night--"

"Miss Damaris isn't fit to talk about anything to-night."

Theresa pulled at the right-hand glove--the kid gave with a little
shriek, the thumb splitting out. She was in a state of acute indecision.
Could she retire from this contest without endangering her authority,
without loss of prestige, or must she insist? She had no real wish to
hasten to her ex-pupil's bedside. She would be glad to put off doing so,
glad to wait. She was conscious of resentment rather than affection. And
she felt afraid, unformulated suspicion, unformulated dread, again
dogging her. That Damaris was really ill, she did not believe for an
instant. Damaris had excellent health. The maids exaggerated. They
delighted in making mysteries. Uneducated persons are always absurdly
greedy of disaster, lugubriously credulous.--Yes, on the whole she
concluded to maintain her original attitude, the attitude of yesterday
and this morning; concluded it would be more telling to keep up the
fiction of disgrace--because--Theresa did not care to scrutinize her own
motives or analyse her own thought too closely. She was afraid, and she
was jealous--jealous of Damaris' beauty, of the great love borne her by
her father, jealous of the fact that a young man--hadn't she, Theresa,