"You mustn't! Oh, you promised not to tell!"
Miss Lydia went on, quietly, "He and I will decide what to do."
"No, no!" Mary said. "He'll kill Carl!"
"I shouldn't think Carl would mind," said Miss Lydia.
The girl dropped down again on the step. "Oh, what shall I do—what shall I do—what shall I do? He'll hate me."
"He'll be very, very unhappy," said Miss Lydia; "but he'll know what must be done. I don't. And he'll forgive you."
"He won't forgive Carl! Father never forgives. He says so! And if he won't forgive Carl he mustn't forgive me!" She hid her face.
There was a long silence. Then she said, in a whisper, "When will you . . . tell him?"
"To-night."
Again she cringed away. "Not to-night! Please not to-night. Oh, you promised you wouldn't tell! I can't bear— Let me think. I'll write to Carl. No! No! Father mustn't know!"