"Oh, _Sylvia_! Please forgive me! I--I didn't guess--I'll drink the medicine--or do anything else you say!"

So Edith fell asleep, and when she woke again, the sun was setting, and Sylvia still sat beside her, their fingers intertwined. Sylvia looked down, smiling.

"The doctor has been here to see you, but you didn't wake, and we both felt it was better not to disturb you. He thinks that all is going well with you. Will you drink some milk, and let me bathe your face and hands?"

"No--not--not yet. Have you really been here--all these hours?"

"Yes, dear."

"With no rest--nothing to eat or drink?"

"Oh, yes, Austin brought me my dinner, but I ate it sitting beside you, and wouldn't let him stay--he's so big, he can't help making a noise."

"Does he know?"

"Not yet."

"And father and mother?"

Sylvia was silent.

"Oh, Sylvia, I'm a wicked, wicked girl, but I'm not what you must think!

I'm not a--a murderess! Peter came up behind me on the stairs in the dark last night, and spoke to me suddenly. It startled me--everything seems to have startled me lately--and I slipped, and fell, and hurt myself--I didn't do it on purpose."

"You poor child--you don't need to tell me that--I never would have believed it of you for a single instant." Then she added, in the strained voice which she could not help using on the very rare occasions when she forced herself to speak of something that had occurred during her marriage, but still as if she felt that no word which might give comfort should be left unsaid, "Perhaps your mother has told you that the little baby who died when it was two weeks old wasn't the first that I--expected. A fall or--or a blow--or any shock of--fear or grief--often ends--in a disaster like this."

"Will the others believe me, too?"

"Of course they will. Don't talk, dear, it's going to be all right."

"I must talk. I've got to tell--I've got to tell _you_. And you can explain--to the family. You always understand everything--and you never blame anybody. I often wonder why it is--you're so good yourself--and yet you never say a word against any living creature, or let anybody else do it when you're around; but lots of girls, who've--done just what I have--and didn't happen to get found out--are the ones who speak most bitterly and cruelly--I know two or three who will be just _glad_ if they know--"

"They're not going to know."

"Then you will listen, and--and believe me--and _help_?"

"Yes, Edith."

"I thought it happened only in books, or when girls had no one to take care of them--not to girls with fathers and mothers and good homes--didn't you, Sylvia?"

"No, dear. I knew it happened sometimes--oh, more often than _sometimes_--to girls--just like you."

"And what happens afterwards?"

Sylvia shuddered, but it was too dark in the carefully shuttered room for Edith to see her. She said quite quietly:

"That depends. In many cases--nothing dreadful."

"Ever anything good?"

"Yes, yes, _good_ things can happen. They can be _made_ to."

"Will you make good things happen to me?"

"I will, indeed I will."

"And not hate me?"

"Never that."

"May I tell you now?"

"If you believe that it will make you feel better; and if you will promise, after you have told me, to let me give you the treatment you need."

"I promise--Do you remember that in the spring Hugh Elliott came to spend a couple of months with Fred?"

Sylvia's fingers twitched, but all she said was, "Yes, Edith."

"He used to be in love with Sally; but he got all over that. He said he was in love with me. I thought he was--he certainly acted that way.

Saying--fresh things, and--and always trying to touch me--and--that's the way men usually do when they begin to fall in love, isn't it, Sylvia?"

"No, darling, not _usually_--not--some kinds of men." And Sylvia's thoughts flew back, for one happy instant, to the man who had knelt at her feet on Christmas night. "But--I know what you mean--"

"And--I liked it. I mean, I thought the talk was fun to listen to, and that the--rest was--oh, Sylvia, do you understand--"

"Yes, dear, I understand."

"And he was awfully jolly, and gave me such a good time. I felt flattered to think he didn't treat me like a child, that he paid me more attention than the older girls."

"Yes, Edith."

"And I thought what fun it would be to marry him, instead of some slow, poky farmer, and have a beautiful house, and servants, and lovely clothes. I kept thinking, every night, he would ask me to; but he didn't.

And finally, one time, just before we got home after a dance, he said--he was going away in the morning."

"Yes, Edith."

"Oh, I was so disappointed, and sore, and--angry! That was it, just plain angry. I had been going with Jack all along when Hugh didn't come for me, and Jack came the very night after Hugh went away, and took me for a long ride. He told me how terribly jealous he had been, and how thankful he was that Hugh was out of the way at last, and that Peter was going, too.

So I laughed, and said that Peter didn't count at all, and that I hated Hugh--of course neither of those things was true, but I was so hurt, I felt _I'd_ like to hurt somebody, too. And finally, I blurted out how mean Hugh had been, to make me think he cared for me, when he was just--having a good time. Then Jack said, 'Well, _I_ care about you--I'm just crazy over you.' 'I don't believe you,' I said; 'I'll never believe any man again.' Just to tease him--that was all.' I'll show you whether I love you,' he said, and began to kiss me. I think he had been drinking--he does, you know. Of course, I ought to have stopped him, but I--had let Hugh--it meant a lot to me, too--the first time. But after I found it didn't mean anything to him--it didn't seem to matter--if some one else _did_--kiss me--I was flattered--and pleased--and--comforted.

You mustn't think that what--happened afterwards--was all Jack's fault. I think I could have stopped it even then--if he'd been sober, anyway. But I didn't guess--I never dreamed--how far you could--get carried away--and how quickly. Oh, Sylvia, why didn't somebody tell me? At home--in the sunshine--with people all around you--it's like another world--you're like another person--than when there's nothing but stillness and darkness everywhere, and a man who loves you, pleading, with his arms around you--

"And afterwards I thought no one would ever know. Jack thought so, too.

Besides, you see, he is crazy to marry me--he'd give anything to. But I wouldn't marry him for anything in the world--whatever happened--the great ignorant, dirty drunkard! Only he isn't unkind--or cowardly--don't think that--or let the others think so! He's willing to take his share of the blame--he's _sorry_--

"Then, just a little while ago--I began to be afraid of--what had happened. But I didn't know much about that, either. I thought, some way, I might be mistaken--I hoped so, anyhow. I wanted to come--and tell you all about it--but I didn't dare. I never saw you kiss Austin but once--you're so quiet when you're with him, Sylvia, and other people are around--and it was--it was just like--_a prayer_. After seeing that, I _couldn't_ come to you--with my story--unless _I had_ to--I felt as if it would be just like throwing mud on a flower.

"Then, yesterday, after the work was done, Peter asked me to go to walk with him. It was so late, when he and Austin got home, that I had scarcely seen him. I was going upstairs, in the dark, and I didn't know that he was anywhere near--it frightened me when he called. So--so I slipped--and fell--all the way down. I knew, right away, that I was hurt; but, of course, I didn't guess how much. I went to walk with him just the same, because it seemed as if it--would feel good to be with Peter--he's always been so--well, I can't explain--_so square_. And while we were out, I began to feel sick--and now, of course, he'll never be willing--to take me to walk--to be seen anywhere with me again! I can't bear it! I mind--not having been square to him--more than anything else--more than half-killing mother, even! Oh, Sylvia, tell them, please, _quickly_! and have it over with--tell them, too, that it was my own fault--don't forget that part! And then take me away with you, where I won't see them--or any one else I know--and teach me to be good--even if you can't help me to forget!"