"Leave me!" repeated Beryl. "You do not mean altogether?"
"Yes, dear; it grieves me to say it, but I shall be obliged to leave you for good."
"Oh, Miss Burton, you cannot mean it! How could I do without you?" cried Beryl wildly.
"You must learn to do without me, Beryl."
"I will not; you shall not go!" exclaimed Beryl passionately. "Why are you going? Does papa wish you to go?"
"No, it is not that," said her governess tremulously.
"Then you really must not go; I will write to papa!" cried Beryl.
"No, no, dear; you must not do that," replied Miss Burton, laying her hand on Beryl's arm. "Listen to me. I am obliged to go. Your father knows about it, and will not attempt to hinder me. It is painful enough to leave you; do not make it harder for me by your words."
Beryl could not understand why, if it was painful to her, Miss Burton should insist on going. Nor when she spoke to her aunt on the subject could she get any satisfactory explanation. Miss Hollys understood Miss Burton's reasons for the step as little as Beryl.
There was about it all an element of mystification which added to the pain with which Beryl contemplated the coming change. It was bad enough to lose Coral, but what would life at Egloshayle be like when Miss Burton too was gone? Miss Burton tried to cheer her by saying that perhaps Beryl would be able to come, and stay with her at Hampstead sometimes. But Beryl only shook her head. Nothing would ever be nice again. When the parting day came, it was a sad, despairful young face Miss Burton looked back upon as the train carried her out of Egloshayle station.