dge how you ought to act for my sake at the present moment.
You say you love me----"

"I suppose that is what I feel," said Irene. "It is a queer sort of
sensation, and I have never had it before. It seems to make my heart
lighter, and when I think of you I seem to get a sense of rest and
pleasure. When you are away from me I feel savage with every one else;
but when you are near I think the best of others. And I think it is just
possible that if I saw much of you I'd be a sort of a good girl--not a
very good one, but a sort of a good girl, particularly if you'd manage
mother and manage the servants, and tell them not to be such geese as to
be afraid of me. For, of course, you know, I can't help being a
changeling."

"Now, Irene, you must listen to me. I ought to be in bed and asleep.
People will hear us talking, and I won't allow the door to be locked,
whether you like it or not, because it is against the rules."

"Gracious!" said Irene, "couldn't we both get out of the window, and
climb down by the wistaria and the ivy, and reach the ground, and go and
hide in the plantation? We could spend the night there, locked in each
other's arms, so happy--oh, so happy! By the way, I saw a little
summer-house--we could spend the night in the summer-house, couldn't we?
Couldn't we?"

It was a temptation. Rosamund was fond of adventures. The night was a
very hot one; the room was close. Outside, there were stars innumerable.
Mrs. Merriman, the only person who ever invaded the girls' bedrooms
after the hours of repose, would certainly not intrude upon Rosamund. It
would be nice to spend one night with her friend. Could she call Irene
her friend? Anyhow, it would be nice to spend one night in the open air,
and she could influence Irene and help her, and----But then there was
the word of honor.

"I can't," she said. "I would have liked it, of course. But I will tell
you what happened. When I got back home the other night I saw Professor
Merriman, and he was very angry with me, and he said that I ought not to
have disobeyed him. I told him all about you, and"----

"Of course he hates me, horrid old frump!" said Irene. "But you are not
going to mind him. Why, mother has been writing to him, and writing to
your mother, too; and the one thing about you that I don't quite like is
that mother had evidently been thinking that you have been sent as a
sort of Providence here to reform me. You must see by my making that
remark that I to