“My room is near yours. I saw your light. I thought that you had not gone to sleep. I wanted to come to speak to you.” She put her hands on Miriam’s shoulder. “You have been crying.”
“Yes,” said Miriam, quietly.
“I saw at dinner that you were not yourself—and I am troubled, too. I have a confession to make.”
Miriam looked at her curiously.
“You know that I am your friend—now,” the other went on. “Since we have been here together, we have come to know each other as I never thought that we should. There was a time before, though, when I did not understand so well. I had watched you, and I did not like you. I distrusted you—or, rather, did not trust you——”
“I understand. You were clever enough to see through me——”
“I thought that with your—insincerities that you were all false. I should have been wise enough to know differently. But what will you?—to assume evil is easy, and always gives one a proud sense of superior perspicacity. I condemned you, Miriam, without a hearing, and I told Arthur Leeds.”
“You did it?” the girl murmured, dully.
“Yes, I warned him.”
“Why?”