as only put off, however,"
she said to herself, "and it really had not been her fault. She would
explain all, the very next time they met."

Mademoiselle left her at the gate with an affectionate good-bye, and as
Susan walked up the path to the door the doctor came out. He was
generally in's great hurry, but to-day he stopped and smiled at her:

"Good news," he said. "If this improvement continues you may see your
companion to-morrow, and sit with her an hour. She's much stronger and
better."

Was it good news? Of course Susan was glad that Sophia was better, but
the thought at once came into her mind, as she watched the doctor out of
the gate, "she will ask me about the collar. She will expect a message
from Mademoiselle." All that evening she was troubled about this, and
even hoped that Sophia Jane might not be _quite_ so well to-morrow, so
that she might have time to see Mademoiselle again and make it all
right. "What should I do if Sophia Jane asks me straight out whether I
said the collar was from her? I couldn't tell her I didn't, and I
couldn't tell her I did. Oh, how I wish I had not put it off." Now, in
all her reflections, Susan still made excuses for herself, and still
said, "it was not my fault." She did not see that she had been mean and
jealous and deceitful; but she did see that she had got herself into a
difficulty, and was anxious, not to atone for her fault, but to escape
the consequences of it. When conscience told her that the right thing
was confession to her companion, she would not listen. "After all," she
said, "she perhaps won't ask me, and then it will be all right; for I
_certainly will_ explain it to Mademoiselle, as I always meant to." And
in this way Susan got more and more enclosed in the tangled web she was
weaving; for how can we make anything right unless we first see that it
is wrong?

Sophia Jane continued better, and was much looking forward, Aunt Hannah
said, to her companion's visit. Susan was cautioned before she went
upstairs to be very kind and gentle, not to vex or thwart the invalid,
and to call Buskin if anything should be wanted. Aunt Hannah would go
out a little while, which she had scarcely done since Sophia Jane's
illness. All this was promised, and it seemed another reason against
saying anything about the collar; for, if Sophia Jane knew the truth, it
would certainly vex and thwart her. Susan collected some things which
she thought might amuse her