"It's on account of Basil."
"Leave Basil's name out, please. I am not going to be cajoled into restoring him to my favor again."
Ermengarde's face, which had been growing whiter and whiter during this interview, now became convulsed with a spasm of great agony. She put up her trembling hands to cover it. This was not a moment for tears. Her hot eyes were dry.
"Father, you don't know Basil. He has done nothing wrong, nothing. It's all me. It's all me, father."
And then the miserable story, bit by bit, was revealed to Mr. Wilton; it was told reluctantly, for even now Ermengarde would have shielded herself if she could. Without a single word or comment, the narrative was listened to. Then Mr. Wilton, taking Ermie's hand, walked silently back to the house with her. Miss Wilton came down the steps of the front entrance to meet them.
"Good-morning, Ermengarde," she said. "How queer and dragged you look? Roderick, I want to speak to you."
"I will come to you presently, Elizabeth. I am particularly engaged just now."
"But you are not going to take that child in through the front entrance?"
"Will you allow me to pass, please?"
Mr. Wilton's voice was so firm that his sister made no further comment, but with a shrug of her shoulders turned aside.