“Now tell me all about it, my dear little girl. Who was this Maria?”
“Maria was my nurse when I lived at home. She used to take me out walking,” said Rose, pressing closer to his protecting breast, and pausing as though still afraid of her own words.
“Well,” he said, beginning to perceive, “and was it than that you saw this Maddox?”
“Yes, he used to come and walk with us, and sit under the trees in Kensington Gardens with her. And sometimes he gave me lemon-drops, but they said if ever I told, the lions should have me. I used to think I might be saved like Daniel; but after I told the lie, I knew I should not. Mamma asked me why my fingers were sticky, and I did say it was from a lemon-drop, but there were Maria’s eyes looking at me; oh, so dreadful, and when mamma asked who gave it to me, and Maria said, ‘I did, did not I, Miss Rose?’ Oh, I did not seem able to help saying ‘yes.’”
“Poor child! And you never dared to speak of it again?”
“Oh, no! I did long to tell; but, oh, one night it was written up in letters of fire, ‘Beware of the Lions.’”
“Terror must have set you dreaming, my dear.”
“No,” said Rose, earnestly. “I was quite awake. Papa and mamma were gone out to dine and sleep, and Maria would put me to bed half an hour too soon. She read me to sleep, but by-and-by I woke up, as I always did at mamma’s bed time, and the candle was gone, and there were those dreadful letters in light over the door.”
She spoke with such conviction that he became persuaded that all was not delusion, and asked what she did.
“I jumped up, and screamed, and opened the door; but there they were growling in papa’s dressing-room.”