“My touch, Betty Vivian, like fire!”
“Oh, you know that I love you!” sobbed poor Betty.
“Prove it, then, dear, by giving me your confidence.”
“I would,” said Betty, speaking rapidly, “if that which is causing me suffering had anything at all to do with you. But it has nothing to do with you, Mrs. Haddo, nor with the school, nor with the girls in the school. It is my own private trouble. Once I had a treasure. The treasure is gone.”
“You would, perhaps, like it back again?” said Mrs. Haddo.
“Ah yes—yes! but I cannot get it. Some one has taken it. It is gone.”
“Once again, Betty, I ask you to give me your confidence.”
“I cannot.”
Mrs. Haddo resumed her seat. “Is that your very last—your final—decision, Betty Vivian?”
“It is, Mrs. Haddo.”