I was restless at the Elms,
like a bird in a cage; you were content. I was vain, foolish,
and willful; but, looking back at the impetuous, imperious child,
full of romance, untrained, longing for the strife of life,
longing for change, for excitement, for gayety, chafing under
restraint, I think there was some little excuse for me. There
was no excuse for what followed. When papa spoke to us--you
remember it, Lily--and asked so gently if we had either of us a
secret in our lives--when he promised to pardon anything,
provided we kept nothing from him--I ought to have told him
then. There is no excuse for that error. I was ashamed.
Looking round upon the noble faces hanging on the wall, looking
at him, so proud, so dignified, I could not tell him what his
child had done. Oh, Lily, if I had told him, I should not be
kneeling here at your feet now."
Lillian made no reply, but pressed the proud, drooping figure
more closely to her side.
"I can hardly tell the rest," said Beatrice; "the words frighten
me as I utter them. This man, who has been the bane of my life,
was going away for two years.
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