The Clever Woman of the Family

"It was not fancy," said Rose, gentle and timid as ever, but still

obviously injured at the tone of reproof.

"My dear child," said Colonel Keith, with some exertion of patience,

"you must try to be reasonable. How can you possibly recognise a man

that you tell me you never saw?"

"I said I never saw him in the house," said Rose with a shudder;

"but they said if ever I told they would give me to the lions in the

Zoological Gardens."

"Who said so?"

"He, Mr. Maddox and Maria," she answered, in such trepidation that he

could scarcely hear her.

"But you are old and wise enough now to know what a foolish and wicked

threat that was, my dear."

"Yes, I was a little girl then, and knew no better, and once I did tell

a lie when mamma asked me, and now she is dead, and I can never tell her

the truth."

Colin dreaded a public outbreak of the sobs that heaved in the poor

child's throat, but she had self-control enough to restrain them till

he had led her into his own library, where he let her weep out her

repentance for the untruth, which, wrested from her by terror, had

weighed so long on her conscience. He felt that he was sparing Ermine

something by receiving the first tempest of tears, in the absolute

terror and anguish of revealing the secret that had preyed on her with

mysterious horror.

"Now tell me all about it, my dear little girl. Who was this Maria?"

"Maria was my nurse when I lived at home. She used to take me out

walking," said Rose, pressing closer to his protecting breast, and

pausing as though still afraid of her own words.

"Well," he said, beginning to perceive, "and was it than that you saw

this Maddox?"

"Yes, he used to come and walk with us, and sit under the trees in

Kensington Gardens with her. And sometimes he gave me lemon-drops, but

they said if ever I told, the lions should have me. I used to think I

might be saved like Daniel; but after I told the lie, I knew I should

not. Mamma asked me why my fingers were sticky, and I did say it was

from a lemon-drop, but there were Maria's eyes looking at me; oh, so

dreadful, and when mamma asked who gave it to me, and Maria said, 'I

did, did not I, Miss Rose?' Oh, I did not seem able to help saying

'yes.'"

"Poor child! And you never dared to speak of it again?"

"Oh, no! I did long to tell; but, oh, one night it was written up in

letters of fire, 'Beware of the Lions.'"

"Terror must have set you dreaming, my dear."