“May I? I knew you would let me tell you. They won’t let me for fear I will go mad. You are not mad, are you?”
Blanche hastened to make Bessie comfortable, then persuaded her to sit beside the fire to warm her shivering 210 limbs, thinking more than likely some member of the family would soon be in search of the truant. She really hoped they would be, for the thought of staying through that stormy night with a maniac was not a very pleasant one. But she was determined to make the best of the situation, unpleasant though it was.
“You promised you would not tell any one, and you must not let that old woman know.”
“I will promise, too,” said Mrs. Morris, with a shiver.
“Sure?”
“Yes, as sure as there is a heaven.”
“Oh, oh,” screamed Bessie, “those were the very words he said, and I would not believe you now, anyway. If you say she shall not tell, I will let her listen if she wants to,” she said, turning to Blanche.
“Very well, go on then, I will make her keep the secret.”
“Well; let me see if Ross is listening.”
“No, no; he is sound asleep, and the wind is blowing, oh so hard. How it shrieks as it goes down the old well-curb. Did you ever hear it?”