"Ask your sister," she replied. "It was her plan. I—I" (with a little sob) "am only her experiment."
Olivia came forward, looking wholly subdued. Her eyes were wet, too.
"It is true," she said. "It is all my fault."
"May I ask you to explain?" said Ferrol, rather sternly. "I suppose some of this has been for my benefit."
"Don't speak in that tone," said Olivia. "It is bad enough as it is. I—I never was so wretched in my life. I never dreamed of its turning out in this way. She was so pretty and gentle and quick to take a hint, and—I wanted to try the experiment—to see if you would guess at the truth. I—I had a theory, and I was so much interested that—I forgot to—to think of her very much. I did not think she would care."
Louisiana broke in.
"Yes," she said, her eyes bright with pain, "she forgot. I was very fond of her, and I knew so very little that she forgot to think of me. I was only a kind of plaything—but I was too proud to remind her. I thought it would be soon over, and I knew how ignorant I was. I was afraid to trust my feelings at first. I thought perhaps—it was vanity, and I ought to crush it down. I was very fond of her."
"Oh!" cried Olivia, piteously, "don't say 'was,' Louise!"
"Don't say 'Louise,'" was the reply. "Say 'Louisiana.' I am not ashamed of it now. I want Mr. Ferrol to hear it."
"I have nothing to say in self-defense," Laurence replied, hopelessly.