en once we are married, I never, never, will have a secret from you
again--I swear it."

As a comment on these words she now stepped cautiously out, and peered
in every direction.

"St--st!" she whispered. No answer came to this signal.

Rose returned into the house and bolted the door inside. She went up
to the tapestried room, and found the doctor in the act of wishing
Josephine good-night. The baroness, fatigued a little by her walk, had
mounted no higher than her own bedroom, which was on the first floor
just under the tapestried room. Rose followed the doctor out. "Dear
friend, one word. Josephine talked of telling Raynal. You have not
encouraged her to do that?"

"Certainly not, while he is in Egypt."

"Still less on his return. Doctor, you don't know that man. Josephine
does not know him. But I do. He would kill her if he knew. He would kill
her that minute. He would not wait: he would not listen to excuses: he
is a man of iron. Or if he spared her he would kill Camille: and that
would destroy her by the cruellest of all deaths! My friend, I am a
wicked, miserable girl. I am the cause of all this misery!"

She then told Aubertin all about the anonymous letter, and what Raynal
had said to her in consequence.

"He never would have married her had he known she loved another. He
asked me was it so. I told him a falsehood. At least I equivocated, and
to equivocate with one so loyal and simple was to deceive him. I am the
only sinner: that sweet angel is the only sufferer. Is this the justice
of Heaven? Doctor, my remorse is great. No one knows what I feel when I
look at my work. Edouard thinks I love her so much better than I do
him. He is wrong: it is not love only, it is pity: it is remorse for the
sorrow I have brought on her, and the wrong I have done poor Raynal."

The high-spirited girl was greatly agitated: and Aubertin, though he did
not acquit her of all blame, soothed her, and made excuses for her.

"We must not always judge by results," said he. "Things turned
unfortunately. You did for the best. I forgive you for one. That is, I
will forgive you if you promise not to act again without my advice."

"Oh, never! never!"

"And, above all, no imprudence about that child. In three little weeks
they will be together without risk of discovery. Well, you don't answer
me."

Rose's blood turned cold. "Dear friend," she stammered, "I quite agree
with you."

"Promise, then."

"Not to let Josephine go