from the beginning. I poured them out with quivering
hands and burning words which might have carried
conviction to the most sceptical. "She
hates you and she hates me!" I cried. "She revenged
herself last night on both of us at once. She saw me
leave the ball, and she must have seen you also. She
knew how long it would take you to reach home. Then
she had but to use her wicked will. Ah, your bruised
face is a small thing beside my bruised soul!"

He was struck by my story. That was evident. "Yes,
yes, she watched me out of the room," he muttered.
"She is capable of it. But is it possible that she has
really reduced you to this? What do you intend to do?"

"To stop it!" I cried. "I am perfectly desperate; I
shall give her fair warning to-day, and the next time
will be the last."

"Do nothing rash," said he.

"Rash!" I cried. "The only rash thing is that I should
postpone it another hour." With that I rushed to my
room, and here I am on the eve of what may be the great
crisis of my life. I shall start at once. I have
gained one thing to-day, for I have made one man, at
least, realize the truth of this monstrous experience
of mine. And, if the worst should happen, this diary
remains as a proof of the goad that has driven me.