"You must not ask me about Annabel Lee," she said in a whisper, "for
I-- I can tell you nothing about her. I can never tell you about her--
never."

Then she rushed to her sofa-bed, flung herself upon it face downward,
and burst into queer, silent, distressful tears.

Some one touched Priscilla softly an her shoulder.

"Let me take you to your room, Miss Peel," said Nancy Banister. "Don't
take any notice of Maggie; she will be all right by and by."

Nancy took Priscilla's hand and walked with her across the corridor.

"I am so sorry I said anything to hurt Miss Oliphant," said Priscilla.

"Oh, you were not to blame. You could not know any better. Of course,
now that you do know, you will never do it again."

"But I don't know anything now. Please will you tell me who Annabel
Lee is?"

"Hush! don't speak so loud. Annabel Lee" Nancy's eyes filled with
tears-- "no girl in the college was so popular."

"Why do you say was? and why do you cry?"

"I did not know that I cried. Annabel Lee is dead."

"Oh!"