A step came into the passage, there was a surprised pause, then a rush to the door, which was quickly opened. Basil, not George, stood before Ermengarde.
"Ermie!" he exclaimed. His face got crimson, then it turned white. His first exclamation had been full of astonished affection and concern, but in a flash his manner altered; he caught Ermengarde roughly by the shoulder, and dragged her into the house.
"Come into the schoolroom," he said.
"O Basil, don't—don't look at me like that."
"I'm not looking at you in any way. I must lock this door, I suppose. Did you know it was past eleven o'clock?"
"Yes, yes, I heard the stable-clock strike. Oh, I was so terrified. Basil, why are you looking like that?"
"I'm not looking any way. Don't be a goose. Here, come into the schoolroom."
"No, I am tired. I want to go to bed. I'll—I'll explain every thing to you to-morrow."
"Look here, Ermengarde." Basil held a lamp in his hand, and its light fell on Ermengarde's face. "You have got to come into the schoolroom and make no words about it, or I'll—I'll take you, just as you are, straight away to father, to his study."
"You are very cruel," sobbed Ermengarde. But she went into the schoolroom without another word.