"No, I am not coming in. I have only come to tell you that—that—"
"What?"
An awful dread seized Valentine's heart.
"That I cannot give that promise. I am going down now. I have been thinking and thinking, and I know it isn't right to deceive, and I don't want to hide anything. There is too much hiding in our family. I am going down now to tell Aunt Caroline you are here."
Valentine did not speak. She could scarcely see his face, for it was in shadow, but somehow it frightened her.
"Oh, Val, say something! I am so sorry, but I must. Will you ever forgive me?"
"No. You have the same as broken your promise."
He closed the door, and she turned and ran down stairs. Her aunts were sitting as she had left them. Miss Herrick was writing notes at the desk, while her sister read by the lamp on the table. The shelves which lined the walls were filled with books, and the engravings and etchings which hung above added to the sombre aspect of the room. It was absolutely still except for the scratching of Miss Herrick's pen, and for a moment or two Elizabeth stood there in the silence unnoticed.
"Aunt Caroline," she said at last.
It was in such a weak voice that no one heard her.