“I said I would come,” answered Maggie. “Must I reiterate my assurance? Tell Miss Elliot-Smith to expect me.” Maggie read for a little in the library; then, feeling tired, she rose from her seat and crossed the large room, intending to go up at once to her own chamber. In the hall, however, she was attracted by seeing Miss Heath’s door slightly open. Her heart was full of compunction for having, even for a moment, suspected Priscilla of theft. She thought she would go and speak to Miss Heath about her. She knocked at the vice-principal’s door. “Come in,” answered the kind voice, and Maggie found herself a moment later seated by the fire: the door of Miss Heath’s room shut, and Miss Heath herself standing over her, using words of commiseration. “My dear,” she said, “you look very ill.” Maggie raised her eyes. Miss Heath had seen many moods on that charming face; now the expression in the wide-open, brown eyes caused her own to fill with sudden tears. “I would do anything to help you, my love,” she said tenderly, and, stooping down, she kissed Maggie on her forehead. “Perhaps, another time,” answered Miss Oliphant. “You are all that is good, Miss Heath, and I may as well own frankly that I am neither well nor happy, but I have not come to speak of myself just now. I want to say something about Priscilla Peel.” “Yes, what about her?” “She came to you last night. I know what she came about.” “She told me she had confided in you,” answered the vice-principal gravely. “Yes. Well, I have come to say that she must not be allowed to give up her Greek and Latin.” “Why not?” “Miss Heath, how can you say, why not’? Prissie is a genius; her inclination lies in that direction. It is in her power to become one of the most brilliant classical scholars of her day.” Miss Heath smiled. “Well, Maggie,” she said slowly, “even suppose that is the case— and you must own that, clever as Priscilla is, you make an extreme statement when you say such words— she may do well, very well, and yet turn her attention to other subjects for the present.” “It is cruel!” said Maggie, rising and stamping her foot impatiently. “Priscilla has it in her to shed honor on our college. She will take a first-class when she goes for her tripos, if her present studies are not interfered with.” Miss Heath smiled at Maggie in a pitying sort of way. “I admit,” she said, “that first-class honors would be a very graceful crown of bay to encircle that young head; and yet, Maggie, yet— surely Priscilla can do better?” “What do you mean? How can she possibly do better?” “She can wear a nobler crown. You know, Maggie, there are crowns to be worn which cannot fade.” “Oh!” Maggie’s lips trembled. She looked down. After a pause, she said, “Priscilla told me something of her home and her family. I suppose she has also confided in you, Miss Heath?” “Yes, my dear.”