"What now?"

"Yes, mamma; now; to-morrow. I need not say that it will make me
very unhappy to be away at such a time, but I begin to think that it
will be better."

"What will papa say?"

"You must tell him all."

"And Aunt Mary must be told also. You would not like that. Has he
said anything?"

"No, nothing;--very little, that is. But Bella has spoken to me.
Oh, mamma, I think we have been very wrong in this. That is, I have
been wrong. I feel as though I should disgrace myself, and turn the
whole party here into a misfortune."

It would be dreadful, that telling of the story to her father and to
her aunt, and such a necessity must, if possible, be avoided.
Should such a necessity actually come, the former task would, no
doubt, be done by her mother, but that would not lighten the load
materially. After a fortnight she would again meet her father, and
would be forced to discuss it. "I will remain if it be possible,"
she said; "but, mamma, if I wish to go, you will not stop me?" Her
mother promised that she would not stop her, but strongly advised
her to stand her ground.

On the following morning, when she came down stairs before