She stepped through the window as she spoke. He knew that she did so quite innocently—she would not keep him standing at the open window.
“You have made a little fool of yourself, Lizzie,” he said; “and I fear that you have not learned wisdom yet, or you would not have come here at such an hour. What have you got to say to me? Let us go outside. We can talk better outside. But I hope you haven't got much to say to me. I have to get up early in the morning.”
She stepped outside, and he followed her. They walked half-way round the house until they came to the rosery, which was at the side opposite to that where the servants' rooms were situated.
“I don't want you to fall into worse trouble, my dear,” said he. “Now tell me all that you think I should be told.”
“I knew that I had no chance of speaking to you in an ordinary way, sir,” said the girl, “so I slipped out of Mrs. Morgan's cottage and came here.”
“That was very foolish of you. Well, what have you to say to me?”
“You know my secret, sir. Cyril—I mean Mr. Mowbray, told me that you knew it; but no one else does—not even my father—not even Miss Mowbray—and I'd die sooner than tell it to any one.”
“Yes, yes, I know. To say you were both foolish would be to say the very least of the matter. But you at any rate have been punished.”
“God knows I have, Mr. Westwood.”
“Yes, it is always the woman who has to bear the punishment for this sin. I wish I could lighten yours, my poor child.”