She did
not see it, for she preferred to look at the table-cloth.

"Dreadful things have happened here," she said in a low voice.

"What sort?"

"Horrid sorts. Appalling sorts."

"Tell me."

"I couldn't bear to."

"But I think I know."

She looked at him astonished.

"Mrs. Pearce--"

"She told you?"

"What she knew she told me. Perhaps there's something she doesn't
know."

Priscilla remembered Robin, and blushed.

"Yes, she told me about that," said the Prince nodding.

"About what?" asked Priscilla, startled.

"About the squire intending to marry you."

"Oh," said Priscilla.

"It seems hard on him, don't it? Has it struck you that such things
are likely to occur pretty often to Miss Maria-Theresa Ethel
Neumann-Schultz?"

"I'm afraid you really have come only to laugh," said Priscilla, her
lips quivering.

"I swear it's only to see if you are happy."

"Well, see then." And throwing back her head with a great defiance she
looked at him while her eyes filled with tears; and though they
presently brimmed over, and began to drop down pitifully one by one,
she would not flinch but went on looking.

"I see," said the Prince quietly. "And I'm convinced. Of course, then,
I shall suggest your leaving this."

"I want to."

"And putting yourself in the care of the Disthal."

Priscilla winced.

"Only her temporary care. Quite temporary. And letting her take you
back to Kunitz."

Priscilla winced again.

"Only temporarily," said the Prince.

"But my father would never--"

"Yes my dear, he will. He'll be delighted to see you. He'll rejoice."

"Rejoice?"

"I assure you he will. You've only got to do what I tell you."

"Shall you--come too?"

"If you'll let me."

"But then--but then--"

"Then what, my dear?"

She looked at him, and her face changed slowly from white to red and
red to white again. Fritzing's words crossed her mind--"If you marry
him you will be undoubtedly eternally lost," and her very soul cried
out that they were folly. Why should she be eternally lost? What
cobwebs were these, cobwebs of an old brain preoccupied with shadows,
dusty things to be swept away at the first touch of Nature's vigorous
broom? Indeed she thought it far more likely that she would be
eternally found. But she was ashamed of herself, ashamed of all she
had done, ashamed of the disgraceful way she had treated this man,
terribly disillusioned, terribly out of conceit with herself, and she
stood t