She again fixed her eyes upon Bertha with the wide, appealing look.

"Whether I say it or not," replied the other, "you'll see what I
think. I never could help that."

"That's what I love in you! And that's what I've been thinking of,
all these weeks of misery--your perfect sincerity. I've asked
myself whether it would be possible for you to find yourself in such
a position as mine; and how you would act, how you would speak.
You're my ideal of truth and rightness, Bertha; I've often enough
told you that."

Bertha moved uncomfortably, her eyes averted.

"Suppose you just tell me what has happened," she added quietly.

"Yes, I will. I hope you haven't been thinking it was some fault of
_his_?"

"I couldn't help thinking that."

"Oh! Put that out of your mind at once. The fault is altogether
mine. He has done nothing whatever--he is good and true, and all
that a man should be. It's I who am behaving badly; so badly that I
feel hot with shame now that I come to tell you. I have broken it
off. I've said I couldn't marry him."

Their eyes met for an instant. Bertha looked rather grave, but with
her wonted kindliness of expression; Rosamund's brows were wrinkled