‘Indeed, it _is_ true! I daresay you are surprised that I should not have told you, Quita (for I have told you almost everything), but I have felt so deeply about it, that I _could_ not speak; and our engagement has never been made public, though it has lasted over a year.’ ‘_You_--engaged to _Henri de Courcelles_!’ repeated Quita incredulously. ‘Yes! Although he has broken it off, of his own accord, and left me, I cannot feel that I am free from him. For I love him, Quita. I love him with my whole heart and soul. I did not think it was in me to love any creature as I love him. And since we have parted, I have been unable to sleep, or eat, or drink, for longing after him,--longing, above all things, to clear my character in his eyes, even though I never saw him afterwards. Oh, Quita, I must, I _must_ do this! To live on letting him think me false and frail, will kill me! If you will not help me out of this awful dilemma, my death will be on your head.’ But the news she had just heard had hardened Maraquita’s heart. All the love she was capable of feeling had been given to De Courcelles, and if he and Lizzie had combined to deceive her, why they might suffer for it. That was all she thought of, as she clenched her teeth upon her upper lip, to prevent her betraying her emotion. ‘Maraquita! won’t you save my love to me?’ wailed Lizzie. ‘All I ask is to clear my name in the eyes of Henri de Courcelles, and then the rest of the world may think and say what they choose.’ ‘I don’t in the least understand what you are driving at,’ replied Maraquita. ‘What can _I_ do to make up your quarrel? Monsieur de Courcelles and you are both old enough to look after yourselves. If he won’t believe you, he is not likely to believe _me_.’ ‘But I cannot speak--my lips are sealed,’ cried Lizzie wildly; ‘and he will not accept my word, instead of an explanation. Don’t you understand me, Quita? Henri has heard this scandalous report about the child, and believes it to be mine. He demands the name of the mother, and no one but you can satisfy him. Oh, Quita, release me from this awful vow, that threatens to ruin my character and blast my whole life! Think, dear--is it fair that I should lose everything I love and value most, because of your fault? Be brave and generous enough to share the blame with me, and I promise you before God that it shall never go any further.’ Maraquita sat straight up on her couch, and stared at her adopted sister. ‘What do you want me to do? Speak plainly, for I do not comprehend your meaning.’ ‘I want you to tell your parents what you have done. They will pity, and love, and forgive you, Quita, as I do. They will feel it was your youth and ignorance that were at fault, and not your heart; and you will feel happier, my poor sister, when your mother has shared your secret, and forgiven it. I want you to tell Mr and Mrs Courtney that the child in my bungalow is yours.’